


High Heat

by Gleennui



Category: Baseball RPF, Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Baseball, Bloodplay, Coming Out, Finn as a pitcher, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Light Dom/sub, M/M, MLB, Out With A Bang Big Bang, Puck as an infielder, some real people mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-10
Updated: 2015-07-10
Packaged: 2018-04-08 14:35:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 47,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4308882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gleennui/pseuds/Gleennui
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As major league baseball rookies, Puck and Finn seem to have it all: fame, success, opportunity, and each other. But the longer they go without coming out, the higher the stakes get, until both their careers and their relationship hang in the balance. Together, they’ll have to decide if there’s room in the all-american ballplayer story for them, or if they’ll have to rewrite it all together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	High Heat

**Author's Note:**

> This work is part of the Out With a (Big) Bang fic and art challenge on tumblr. 
> 
> Special thanks to raving_liberal and patchfire, for letting me bounce ideas off them and being my cheerleaders on this for six months, and to pterawaters for her lovely mix and art! 
> 
>  
> 
> [Fanmix by pterawaters](https://www.dropbox.com/s/5p7gtgpzudovdjk/High%20Heat.zip?dl=0)
> 
>  [Art by pterawaters](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4226748)
> 
> **Please read the tags before beginning**

There’s no way Gonzalez is going to hit his slider; Finn’s sure of it. He’s already fouled off Finn’s last two pitches, nicking the top of the four-seamers and sending them spinning off to the third-base on-deck circle. Finn knows Gonzalez is waiting for the slider. Everyone in the park is waiting for the slider. But it’s been sharp all night, diving down and biting at batters’ ankles before the barrel’s halfway through the zone. 

White comes out of his crouch, and Finn gestures him out to the mound. Putting a little doubt in the Twins’ minds couldn’t hurt, and he can see Kubel in the third base coach’s box run through the signs with Gonzalez. Finn puts his glove over his mouth as White jogs up to him and taps his knuckles against Finn’s belt. Finn leans in, conspiratorially. 

“Where you goin’ for dinner?” 

White lifts his mask and schools his face. “Thought we’d try Ike’s again. Gebbie liked their burgers and his family’s comin’ in tomorrow, so I gotta get him home in one piece. Drew the short straw.” 

Finn grins, and sees Welke striding toward them. “Alright, man, let’s wrap this thing up and then we all get burgers.”

“Down and in, Huddy. You got this.” With another tap to Finn’s belt, White jogs back behind the plate, nodding once more at Finn before dipping down into his crouch. 

Finn spins the ball in his glove, settling into a slider grip and carefully dragging a clipped-short nail near the short end of the seam. If he’s lucky, this one will be the final bullet in the chamber and he won’t have to chance Welke seeing the scratch in the leather and tossing his masterpiece toward the first-base dugout. 

Gonzalez pulls the bat back behind his right ear and starts to time him. Finn raises his arms into his windup, feeling the sure, strong pull of his lats and the familiar coil of tension start to compress. He raises his leg, pulling up into his hitch, and drives forward, the coil springing up and his left leg landing solidly on the divot he’d been grooming all inning. 

He knows as soon as the ball leaves his hand that he’s got this. Sure enough, Gonzalez is too early and too high, and the pitch dives away from the bat, landing with a satisfying thwack in White’s glove. 

Finn pounds his glove in what he hopes is a “celebrate like you’ve been there before” kind of way, and jogs out to meet White halfway to home plate. 

“Congratulations, rook. Got the first save out of the way early.” He hands Finn the game ball with a decisive nod. “Let’s see if we can’t get you a few more before we go back home, huh?” 

Finn grins, and he’s about to respond when he’s mobbed where he stands. His teammates are grabbing his arms and shoulders, and someone’s rubbing their knuckles over his head. There are shouts of “Atta boy, Huddy!” and “Oh, someone thinks he’s a big man, now!” which is funny, because the voice is coming from somewhere around his shoulder. Finn doesn’t think he’ll ever stop grinning, and he shakes his teammates off playfully, catching the eye of the sideline reporter and holding up one finger. There’s someone he needs to find first.

He circles around back behind home plate, and scans the line of Twins gathering up their gear, some of them looking awfully cranky. Cranky because of Finn, and the thought makes him chuckle a little in delight. 

Finn doesn’t see Puck until the crowd of white uniforms parts, and then there he is, leaning sideways against the dugout railing and nodding slowly at Finn, one side of his mouth pulled up into a knowing smile. Finn didn’t think it was possible for his face to stretch into a grin as big as the one he can tell he’s making, and he nods back, suddenly feeling the excitement of what he’d just accomplished bubbling up in him uncontrollably. He needs to get through the media parade as quickly as possible so he can celebrate for real, because he knows by the time he gets to their hotel door, he’s going to be ready to burst. 

 

_is kc’s new king finally done meeting his subjects?_

Finn falls into the chair in front of his locker, running a hand through his still-damp hair. His teammates have been filing steadily past him, most of them headed for the bus or, like White and Gebbie and Butler, walking to dinner. They clip him on the side of the head or punch his shoulder as they pass, some of them offering congratulations or asking him why it took so many fucking pitches because now they’re going to be late to dinner. Finn ducks his head a little, smiling at the floor and shooting “yeah, yeah” at some of the hecklers. 

_u jealous cuz i had no shirt on for my post gamer?_

_jealous of them seeing your scrawny chest or jealous of having one? either way no._

Finn chuckles to himself. The clubhouse is all but empty now, and he stretches as he stands up, loving the loose feeling a shower and adrenaline have shot through his muscles. He’ll feel the tightness tomorrow, despite icing, but for now, he feels invincible. 

_yeah like u complain. make an appearance at ikes or head right to the room?_

He knows they’re going to run out of Minneapolis and Kansas City hotels sooner rather than later, because the flip side of ending up in the same division and seeing each other six series out of the year plus the yearly trip the Twins make to St. Louis means they have to play hotel roulette. Finn’s already cycled through all his best aliases in Kansas City, including “Huckleberry Jones” and “Johnny Sacramento,” and it’s not even June. He thinks, a little bit wistfully, that he’d really like to be able to go back to one of their apartments after a game and an obligatory “yeah, I hang out with my buddy from high school” appearance with the guys, but one of the unfortunate side effects of being a rookie means they both share rent with teammates. Finn knows he’s lucky; some of the guys he played Fall League with were renting bedrooms from middle-aged couples whose children were grown. But that still doesn’t mean he can march his division rival boyfriend past freaking Antonio Vazquez and his post-game routine of watching Sportscenter in his Tazmanian Devil boxers. Southpaws, man. 

_doesnt king hudson want his congratulatory prize? booked Doubletree. rm 514. hurry up b4 i finish without u._

Finn chuckles and starts throwing things in his duffel. They’d tried the Doubletree once already, back in April, but it’s far enough away from the park to justify using the discreet car service Kurt had scouted out for Finn during spring training, as soon as both Puck and Finn had secured roster spots. _It’ll make me feel useful, stuck here in off-Broadway purgatory while you’re off being terribly famous,_ Kurt had said at the time. Finn’s pretty sure Kurt was joking, though, because his role in Clamor! is getting all kinds of attention, according to Finn’s mom. Kurt even admitted that he had seen an Anthony Someone-Famous in the audience a few weeks before, and Finn could hear the reluctant pride in his voice. He sends a quick text to the car service, and slings his duffel over his shoulder.

Before Finn walks out the back of the clubhouse, he shoots just one look over his shoulder at the empty locker room. He can just see where a clubbie had let a few dirty socks fall out of the laundry, and the way the edges of his temporary nameplate are curling. Before he can talk himself out of it, he drops his duffel on the spot and sprints out to the field, grabbing a cup from the water cooler on the way. 

The heat of the afternoon’s waning, and a breeze is just barely drifting across the diamond, in that way that stadiums have of making everything inside feel still. Finn walks out to the mound and drops to his knees, scooping dirt into the cup, half with his bare hand. When the cup’s just full enough so maybe he’ll be able to send some dirt to his mom, he stands and walks backward toward the dugout, wiping his hand on his jeans. His first save, and how about that? Fuck, when did he get so lucky? 

_omw. king hudson my ass. ur the best damn thing in this city._

The ride to the hotel does nothing to temper the constant buzz of excitement running through Finn’s veins and making him shiver all the way up to his scalp. He even tries jogging up the hotel stairs instead of taking the elevator, his duffel banging against his hip and probably leaving bruises he’ll have to answer questions about tomorrow. But all the jogging does is pump him full of adrenaline, so by the time he gets to the room, he has to put his hand on the doorknob and take a deep breath. 

There’s a warm body pressed against his before Finn can even get the door all the way closed, which is just risky enough to make his head spin. Familiar fingers snake under Finn’s button-down and trip along each rib, the pads lightly callused. The sensation’s just light enough to make Finn squirm, and then he’s crowing, all the adrenaline concentrating in his chest and coming out in whooping laughter he doesn’t think he can stop. 

“Yeah, been waiting to hear that.” Puck slides one hand out to flick on the overhead light, and Finn can see him, finally. He can see him up close in the way he’s been dying to since he woke up that morning knowing they were in the same city. Puck’s right in front of him, grinning at Finn like Finn just cured cancer or something instead of getting three outs in May. Puck’s eyes are shiny, and his chin’s a little scuffed from taking a header into first base, and he’s got some dried shampoo on the edge of his ear from rinsing too fast before the clubhouse media crush. Finn doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything better. 

Finn’s still laughing when Puck starts steering both of them toward the bed. Puck’s got both hands on the sides of Finn’s neck and he’s just grinning at him, leaning in every few steps to kiss Finn on the cheeks and jaw, silly little smacking kisses that make Finn laugh harder. Finn drops his bag somewhere between the door and the bed, so when Puck slides his hands down to Finn’s shoulders to make him lie on the mattress, Finn goes easily. 

“Look at you,” Puck says, swinging a leg over to straddle Finn’s hips. “Sometimes I still can’t believe you’re real.” He runs a hand through Finn’s hair before leaning down to slot their mouths together, and it’s enough to make any remaining laughter die in Finn’s throat. It’s good; it’s so good, just like it is every time. Just like it has been since they were eighteen and Finn would push Puck up against the back of the dugout after practice, too stupid for each other to find somewhere safer. Puck presses his tongue into Finn’s mouth and slides it along Finn’s, the drag hot and slow, and Finn can’t remember a time when Puck’s mouth didn’t make him dizzy like this. 

They kiss for a while--long enough that Finn finds himself gasping for air but unwilling to move his head to take much of a breath. Finally, Puck pulls away, his teeth scraping along Finn’s bottom lip. “King Hudson. ‘m telling you. Gonna have that whole organization at your feet.” 

“Nah. Nah, c’mon. It’s not like that.” Finn shakes his head but grins up at Puck, reaching up to wipe the shampoo away. “The guys played a great game. Miggy gave us the lead. I--”

“You just got lucky, right? ‘25 guys on a team, Puck. Must have been the way the wind was blowing, Puck.’” Puck furrows his brow, imitating Finn the way he has since they were eight and he wanted to distract Carole from noticing the burn marks on her curtains. 

“I don’t sound that like, jackass,” Finn says, and cuffs Puck on the side of the head, the way he has since they were eight and he figured out that Puck couldn’t ever manage to keep Finn from getting in trouble, no matter how hard he tried. “But yeah, okay. I did pretty good, huh?” 

Puck leans down to kiss him again, just once, before sitting back up and looking down at Finn, his head tilted and his lips curved up on one side. He’s smiling at Finn in that _way_ he has, and it makes Finn’s stomach somersault like it only does for Puck. Puck and that long jog out from the bullpen. 

Finn startles when he feels Puck’s hands start to stroke up his neck and along his jaw. Puck’s still smiling, but he looks like he’s watching his own fingers as they trace lightly up the sides of Finn’s face and along his hairline, his thumbs dragging across Finn’s cheekbones. 

Finn squirms a little. Puck’s usually really affectionate when they’re alone, which had surprised Finn when they’d first gotten together and Puck had wanted to do things like watch tv half-draped across Finn’s lap, his mouth pressed to Finn’s neck. But this feels different; Puck’s touching him like he’s afraid Finn’s going to break, and Finn has to close his eyes because looking at Puck is making him feel funny all over. 

Finn can feel Puck bend down, and then Puck’s kissing him softly, once on each eyelid. Finn sighs and reaches out, his hands landing on Puck’s thighs and lazily stroking up and down where they’re still pressed to Finn’s sides. 

“You make me so fucking proud,” Puck murmurs, and Finn feels Puck move his head so his breath is hot against Finn’s ear. “I mean today, sure, but all the time. Every time you’re on that mound, I wish I could tell people that you’re mine.” Finn feels his face get hot and he stills his hands, gripping Puck’s legs tightly. 

He’s not. He can’t. They can’t. He’s pretty sure Puck knows that, but Puck’s been doing this more lately--the sighing and pouting and talking about things he wishes he could do in front of other people. So Finn slides his hands up to tug at Puck’s belt buckle and rolls his hips just enough to make Puck rumble in his ear. There’ll be time to talk about it later. Right now, Finn wants to enjoy the ride. 

********

 

Puck gets his scholarship offer first, on a Friday they don’t have school because of a teacher’s conference but they do have fall ball practice, so Finn’s in his room, lazily pulling on sweats and wandering around looking for a clean jock, when he hears the front door slam open. He grins to himself. If his mom didn’t want Puck coming in like that, she wouldn’t have bought that clear plastic thing to protect the wall. She even installed it herself, with the DeWalt drill he and Puck got her the Christmas they were 15.

Sure enough, he hears Puck’s heavy footsteps on the stairs a second later, and then Puck’s in his doorway, jumping up to swing on the door frame and grinning so big it looks like his face is going to split. 

“SEMINOOOOOOOLES!” 

Finn gets a beat and a half, maybe, before Puck is _on_ him, sending them both crashing to Finn’s bed. Puck sits up, his knees on either side of Finn’s stomach, and starts punching at Finn’s chest. “Seminoles! Finn! I got it! Full scholarship! Fuck, I did it! I really did it!” Puck laughs, still pounding his fists, and it’s so _happy_ , and it sounds exactly like how Finn feels right now. 

“I _told_ you. I told you they loved you.” Finn grabs Puck’s shoulders and pushes up, tipping Puck backward so Finn can scramble to his knees. He pulls Puck into a huge hug, and it feels like he can’t squeeze him tight enough. “ _Told_ you,” Finn grits out around the lump in his throat, his chin tucked over Puck’s shoulder. “You’re gonna be big league.” Puck laughs again; Finn can feel it against his chest and it makes him laugh, too, the feeling like a tickle spreading out all over him until he has to grip Puck even tighter to hold on. 

“Nah, not me, man. That’s your gig.” Puck’s voice sounds a little strained, and Finn realizes that he should probably let go. He pulls back to look at Puck, holding his shoulders at arms’ length. Puck’s cheeks are red, his eyes kind of wet. 

“Oh! Oh, shit, did I break something?” Finn pats Puck’s shoulders and chest and moves Puck’s head to one side and the other to check his neck. Puck grabs at Finn’s hands, but he doesn’t seem like he really minds. “Dude, you have to tell me if I broke something. You need all your parts now that you’re..” Finn claps his hands to either side of Puck’s mohawk, bringing Puck’s hands with them. “...a Division I infielder!” 

Puck laughs again, but this time it’s more of a hard exhale than anything else. He lets go of Finn’s hands and runs his own hands along Finn’s arms, squeezing Finn’s biceps once before dropping his hands to the bed. 

“I just didn’t think--” Puck starts, his eyes landing somewhere to the left of Finn. “I know I said I was getting out, no matter what, but. I guess I thought maybe I deserved--” Puck looks back up at Finn. “You keeping my head warm? 

Puck’s grinning with one side of his mouth the way he does when he thinks something’s secretly awesome, but Finn jerks his hands away anyway, rubbing his palms on his thighs. “Looked cold,” he mumbles, and starts to climb off the bed. 

Puck’s grip on the back of Finn’s neck stops Finn while he still has one foot on the floor, though, and when Finn turns back, Puck’s looking at him funny, his head tilted to the side.  
“What’d I--” Finn starts, and then Puck’s mouth is pressed against his, warm and a little wet, like Puck had licked his lips right before leaning in. It’s a little weird at first, and Finn almost pulls back, but then Puck’s mouth softens and his grip on Finn’s neck loosens, and before Finn realizes what he’s doing, he’s kissing back. 

They stay like that for another minute or so, not moving or doing much of anything at all besides kissing with their mouths closed. Finn’s vaguely aware of Puck’s hand sliding from his neck to the back of his head, but other than that, he mostly just lets himself enjoy the kiss, as much as he thinks he’s probably _supposed_ to not think it’s awesome at all.

Puck pulls away first, and he leaves his hand on the back of Finn’s head for a couple seconds more before letting it fall to the bed. “Some people pop champagne...” Puck shrugs, but he’s doing the half-smile again, so Finn lets himself smile nervously back. 

“Last time we had champagne, my mom yelled at us for burping the 50 states, remember?” 

“Oh yeah. But you also forgot Utah and one of the Dakotas, dude. That might’ve been why.” 

“I’m not the one who snorted champagne up his nose and sneezed it all over my mom’s lamp. You would have forgotten a Dakota, too!” Finn insists. 

“Yeah, probably,” Puck shrugs again and pushes himself off the bed, stretching in what Finn thinks is an unnecessarily dramatic way. “Buy me Joey’s after practice.”

“You want Joey’s, _too_?!” Finn gapes, but he’s cracking a grin before Puck can even respond.

“Yup.” Puck pauses with his hand on the doorknob. “Unless you think you can remember both Dakotas this time.” 

 

School on Monday is mostly normal, with the addition of practically the entire senior class, including people Finn’s never seen before, coming up to congratulate Puck. Puck walks through the halls with more swagger than usual, and Finn catches himself watching him more than once before he has to mentally shake his head and look away. 

Puck doesn’t mention what happened in Finn’s room, or even hint at it, but he sort of weirdly touches Finn all day, unless Finn’s just noticing it now. Puck comes up behind Finn before English to hand him some sheet music and he leaves his hand on Finn’s lower back while he points out how he wants to split up parts. And during glee, when Rachel insists on performing _another_ song from Evita--and seriously? how does one musical have so many songs?--Puck leans over to point out the book Schue’s trying to pretend he’s not reading while Rachel sings and lets his hand rest on Finn’s knee, keeping it there until the bell rings. 

Finn's standing at his locker before practice, stuffing a Power Bar in his mouth while he grabs his books and the extra stick of deodorant he'd thrown in there in September, when someone taps him on the shoulder.

"I just wanted to offer my condolences on not receiving a scholarship offer. I know it must be difficult to see your best friend heading off to the college of his dreams while you're still hanging."

Rachel's staring up at him, making her "show face," where she makes her eyes big and she bats her eyelashes all funny. Finn frowns, not sure what to say.

"Uh, thanks, Rach, but the schools send their letters out on different schedules. FSU was just early this year." Finn sticks his head back in his locker, glancing back at her over his shoulder. "I'll hear back soon, probably."

"Oh hmm. Well, you know I'm here for you if you need a shoulder to cry on." Finn pulls his head out of his locker and slams it shut. He tilts his head at her, not sure why she's saying this. "We _were_ always good at comforting each other, you know."

Finn blinks at her. Is she really saying she'd rather have Finn miss out on his scholarship just so she can comfort him?

"I'll, uh. I don't think--"

"Hey, Rachel."

Finn looks over his shoulder in time to see Puck come up behind him and lean against his locker.

"Oh, hello, Noah! Congratulations on the scholarship! I'm sure you're just going to _love_ Florida State. Oh, and you'll get to go to school for free, which I'm sure your mother is pleased about."

She bats her eyelashes even faster now, and beams up at Finn while she talks to Puck.

"Yeah, okay, first of all, you need to leave my family out of this. And secondly, I heard what you were saying to Finn."

"Of course you understand, then, that Finn will need someone there for him if he doesn't get the offer he wants!" she protests, and tries to grab at Finn's hand.

"What I _understand_ is that you want to get back together with Finn, and if he wants to get back together with you, that's his choice, but as his _friend_ , you're being really fucking shitty to him, and maybe you should worry about your own college offers instead of focusing on Finn's just so you can get on his jock."

Puck slides his arm around Finn's waist just then, and Finn almost jumps, but Puck doesn't seem like he's planning on moving it, instead squeezing Finn's side.

Rachel stammer and then glares at Puck, actually _stomping her foot_ a little before turning around and stalking away.

Puck grins at Finn and squeezes his side again. "She's going to be in for a surprise when she doesn't get into her precious musical theater school and no one's there to make _her_ feel better about it. Ready? Heard Coach wants pitchers running fielding practice." He winks at Finn. "I'll start playing my tiny violin for you now."

Finn’s not sure what any of it means, except he knows he likes the touching just as much as he liked the kiss, if not more. And he knows that Puck doesn’t seem bothered by any of it, because he keeps doing it, so maybe Finn should just go with it. Division I is a whole new ball game. 

 

********

 

Two weeks later, they’re in Kansas City. Finn’s fighting a nasty cold, so Sveum promises to rest him, but the lead the Royals built up in the early innings starts to fade after Ochoa’s knocked out, and the Twins are only down by one heading into the ninth. Finn knows as soon as he sees Sveum stir in the dugout that he’s coming in, and sure enough, when Murphy puts the leadoff hitter on, the bullpen phone rings in a hurry. 

Finn’s still woozy from Dayquil by the time he jogs out to the mound, and he coughs into his jersey in between warmup pitches. But the ball’s coming out of his hand pretty good, so he figures he can tough it out enough to keep the tying run from scoring. 

That plan works well enough for the first two batters, but a stolen base and a passed ball put the runner on third with two outs and Puck striding up to the plate. It’s their first time facing each other since both had a cup of coffee in the bigs around the same time the year before, but Finn remembers. Four-seamer, low and inside, he mutters to himself, and gives White a nod. The first pitch is too low and almost kicks to the backstop, but White snags it just in time. Finn wipes his nose on his sleeve and huffs out, nodding to White to go back in. 

Finn can feel it as soon as the ball leaves his hand; the pitch is flat with no bite, and he can tell he’s just given Puck a cookie. Puck doesn’t disappoint, and pulls the fastball hard over the third baseman’s head and into left field. Finn almost can’t look when the runner crosses home plate, but he dutifully jogs behind White to back up the relay. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Puck trotting back to first base as the throw comes in, and he shakes his head, because Puck is pretty obviously hiding a grin behind his jersey. 

Finn points to Puck, in a gesture that would probably be more menacing if Finn didn’t start coughing halfway through. Puck grimaces a little when he does, though, so Finn turns back around and picks up the rosin bag, walking around the back of the mound until his eyes stop watering. 

The next batter, their number nine guy, hits a nice easy pop-up to short, but Finn still screams expletives into his glove on the walk back to the dugout. Sveum hops off the bench to give him a pat on the ass, and most of the guys nudge him or clap him on the back, but otherwise no one says much. Finn guesses that his first blown save had to come eventually, but he had kind of been hoping he’d be able to at least get to the All-Star break. 

The game goes into extras, though Sveum doesn’t let Finn go back out for the tenth. It’s just as well, Finn thinks, because the cold medicine’s starting to wear off and all he wants to do is go scream at himself in the clubhouse mirror. But he sticks it out until Puck’s pulled for a pinch hitter in the 12th, shrugging off playful jabs about “Typhoid Hudson” and pretending to cough all over Gebbie. Then he trudges back down the tunnel, taking a long early shower and pulling his warmups back on with one eye on the clubhouse feed of the game. 

The Royals win it in the 14th, on a sac fly, which Finn thanks the baseball gods for, and about five minutes later, he hears the clamoring of very happy ballplayers in the tunnel. Luckily, most of the media heads over to Vazquez, who was 3-5 with the winning at-bat, so by the time the local reporters get to Finn, he’s already packed up and eyeing the pocket of his duffel where he slipped the hotel card. 

No, he didn’t mean to hang the slider. Yes, he’s thrilled that his teammates picked him up, though he’s sorry everyone had to stick around longer for the win. Yes, Puck will probably give him a hard time later. Finn smiles and nods and politely shrugs at the questions he thinks probably shouldn’t have been asked, and before he knows it, the locker room is nearly empty of media. 

Finn sighs and sags against his locker, unwrapping a cough drop while he waits for Puck’s text. He barely has time to shove the wrapper in his pocket when his phone vibrates. 

 

_Finally got rid of my adoring fans. Don’t know how u do it._

Finn rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning. 

_Such a hardship. Sheraton in 10?_

_Yeah. Omw._

This time, Finn slips right up to the room, too sick and exhausted to really care who sees him. He gets there before Puck, somehow, and he drops his duffel inside the door. Kurt had insisted on booking the hotel this time--something about Blaine and dodging a bullet and everlasting gratitude. So the end result is that when Finn peers around the corner into the bathroom, the first thing that greets him is the biggest jacuzzi tub he’s ever seen in his life. 

Finn doesn’t even bother looking back as he starts stripping off his sweats on the short walk over to the tub. There are robes folded on the ledge that actually look big enough for Finn, and some sort of bubble bath on the sink that smells like coconut. Finn shrugs and dumps the entire bottle into the running water he’s made sure to get nice and steaming hot. 

He’s just sinking into the water when he hears the door click open and Puck’s “shit!” and a crash. Finn realizes, belatedly, that he should have probably moved his bag out of the entryway, but sometimes things just happen when you hit the tying RBI off your boyfriend. Minutes later, Puck appears in the doorway, half-naked and rubbing his elbow. 

“That some kind of payback?” Puck shuffles into the bathroom and starts unbuckling his belt. 

“Nah,” Finn grins. “Just more bad aim tonight.” He stifles a cough and sinks lower into the water. 

“Any improvement?” Puck nudges his jeans off and kicks them to the side. Finn shakes his head. “Aw, man, okay. Hang on.” 

When Puck reappears at the bathroom door, he’s completely naked and holding a jar of Vicks. He gestures for Finn to move up, and then Finn feels Puck settle behind him and wrap an arm around his chest. Finn settles back against Puck’s chest, groaning as his limbs, sore from the game and his lingering fever, finally relax. 

“Think the Royals would pay you to travel with us and do this every night?”

“So you don’t have to face me and my big bat 18 times a year?” Puck wiggles his hips behind Finn. “I’d pay to get me off the other team, too.” He kisses Finn behind the ear and Finn hears the sound of the Vicks top being spun off. 

“Maybe I can find some other ways to use your big b--mmm” Finn closes his eyes as Puck brings his other arm around and starts massaging circles into Finn’s chest, kissing him softly on the side of his neck as he does. 

“What was that, Huddy?” Puck chuckles, and starts open-mouth kissing along Finn’s shoulder. Finn tries to remember what he was saying before giving up and tipping his head back against Puck. 

Puck keeps massaging the Vicks in circles, pressing in with both thumbs where Finn’s especially sore and kissing with what feels like extra pressure every time Finn groans in response. The Vicks mixing with the steam from the bath means that Finn’s actually starting to breathe again, and he nuzzles Puck’s neck and jaw, smelling for the first time in weeks the combination of fresh shampoo, sunflower seeds, and something that’s just ‘Puck’ that he’s known to mean ‘baseball’ since they were eight years old. 

The water’s lukewarm and Finn’s fingers are pruney by the time Puck nudges him from what must have been a nap. Puck slides up and out from behind Finn and holds out a hand once he’s out of the jacuzzi, with what looks like one of the giant robes in his other hand. Finn hoists himself up unsteadily and lets Puck pull him out of the tub and wrap him in the robe.

“C’mon,” Puck murmurs in Finn’s ear, sliding his hand into Finn’s and tugging him out of the bathroom. 

Finn hadn’t looked around at all when he’d come in, and he has to blink a few times as Puck leads him over to the bed. The room itself is huge--easily the biggest hotel room Finn’s ever seen, let alone slept in--but the bed takes up almost the entire space. It looks like it could fit Finn and Puck comfortably with someone Kurt’s size to spare. 

“Pretty sweet, right?” Puck grins. “Had to tell ‘em I was George Brett when I called, but I got the upgrade. They probably won’t check, I figure.” Puck shrugs, still grinning, and sits down on the side of the gigantic bed, patting the spot next to him.

“You sure there’s no pine tar on your hands, now though?” Finn eyes the comforter skeptically. “Did they ask you to prove it?” 

Puck waggles his eyebrows. “Why, you want to try something new?” 

“Sure, let’s try it on you first and see how it goes.” Finn falls onto the bed, spreading his legs out in front of him. Through the haze of his stuffy head, his performance that night starts to pull into focus, and Finn groans, rubbing his eyes. That perfect season was a stupid wish, but he wanted it anyway, and now he feels dumb for wanting it and dumb for letting everyone down.  
“Hey,” Finn feels Puck’s hand on his knee, and he opens his eyes. “I wanna try something, okay?”

“Puck…” Finn’s too sick and exhausted and newly miserable to try the things they usually like to bring around, and, as if on cue, he coughs into the collar of his robe. 

But Puck’s already waving his hand dismissively and shaking his head. “Nah, you know I wouldn’t tonight. This is just something to make you feel good, I hope. Lie down?” 

Finn nods and slides back toward the headboard until he’s lying back on what are possibly the most comfortable pillows in the world. Puck rummages around in his bag for a minute before climbing back onto the bed, a small bottle in his hand. 

“Can I take care of you tonight?” Puck bends down to kiss Finn’s chest, and Finn can see that he’s holding a bottle massage oil. 

“Yeah…” If Finn’s completely honest, he doesn’t feel like he deserves taking care of, but the idea of Puck’s hands on his sore back and arms sounds too good to pass up. 

“Just yeah?” Puck teases, and kisses Finn’s chest again. “Could just massage myself tonight, but I do that most nights already.” He looks up at Finn and winks. 

“Yeah...please?” Finn grins, and coughs again into his robe. “Yeah please rub me all over with your--” he cranes his neck, “--what smell is that?” 

“It’s apricot oil,” Puck mumbles, and sits up. “turn over?” 

“Nuh-uh, lemme see it.” Puck may have hit Finn’s slider, but Finn’s arms are still longer, and he grabs the bottle before Puck can pull it away. 

“Baby oil?” Finn raises his eyebrows. 

“ _Apricot_ oil.” 

“For babies, though. See? Says right here.” Finn makes his best wounded face and sniffles. “First you hit my slider and then you call me a baby!”

“Mm mm,” Puck bends down, sliding his hands up Finn’s chest, and kisses Finn on his jaw and cheek. “ _My_ baby,” he murmurs in Finn’s ear. 

“Oh! Well…” Finn can feel his face heat up. “That’s probably okay then. We can write to them afterward and explain.” 

Puck chuckles and noses against Finn’s still-warm cheek. “‘f I’d known that’d get that reaction from you, I’d have been saying it when we were in school.” 

“Yeah, yeah. And if I’d fucked up games cause you kept whispering that to me, we wouldn’t be here right now.”

“Dingus,” Puck chuckles, “I’d only do it in glee or something. Maybe English. Or practices. Or before games. Maybe after games?” He lifts his head and grins at Finn. “Okay, yeah, maybe it’s good we just found out now. You ready?” 

Puck waits for Finn’s nod before he sits back up. He starts to nudge the robe off Finn’s shoulders. Finn shrugs his arms out and lies back to wait for instructions. 

“Comfortable?” Puck grabs the oil and pours some on his palm, rubbings his hands together. Finn nods and wiggles back against the mattress, arms spread. 

Puck frowns and looks like he’s muttering something to himself. He starts on Finn’s right arm, and Finn groans before he can help it. Puck’s still muttering to himself, something like “palms, rocking, here,” but whatever he’s telling himself to do, it’s working. His hands are warm and smooth and working Finn’s muscles with way more confidence than Finn expected. Finn can feel the soreness start to drain out, and he closes his eyes. 

“Wake up, Your Majesty.” 

Finn blinks up at Puck. “Wasn’t sleeping.” 

“Sure you weren’t. You always snore when you’re awake.” Puck winks and runs a hand down Finn’s side. “How’s it feel?”

Finn stretches his arms out and shrugs his shoulders. He feels fantastic--loose and good-sore and a little bit tingly all over. “Pretty damn good. Which guy taught you that?”

Puck runs a hand over his head. “Mac.”

“Mac knows how to give a massage?” Finn blinks again at Puck, this time out of confusion. 

“Well, his girlfriend did. Does. Mac’s girlfriend. Does.” Puck clears his throat. 

Finn starts laughing and doesn’t stop until it turns into a coughing fit. “Awesome. Tell her thanks for me.”

“Yeah yeah.” Puck rolls his eyes but he’s grinning. “Turn over?”

Finn rolls slowly, flexing his shoulders as he does. Once he’s on his stomach, he wiggles his ass and looks back over his shoulder. “Rub me up good!”

Puck snorts but when Finn closes his eyes again, he hears the bottle pop open and the slick oil between Puck’s hands. Finn keeps his eyes closed but doesn’t fall asleep this time, so he’s awake for all of it--the smooth firm glide of Puck’s hands across his back, the press of Puck’s thumbs along his sides, and the words Puck whispers to him just as his fingers are tracing down Finn’s triceps. 

“Mac asked about you the other day.”

Finn stiffens. “What?”

“Yeah, I dunno. Asked if the team was going to see me at all this trip.” 

Finn opens his eyes and looks straight ahead at the window. “What, um. Did you say?” 

Finn can feel Puck’s shrug. “Just said probably not. He can think whatever he wants.”

“No he can’t, Puck!” Finn turns over fast, setting Puck off-balance enough that he has to catch himself on his hands. “He can’t think whatever he wants because one of the things he might think is the thing he _can’t_ think or we’re _fucked_.” 

“Hey, okay,” Puck puts his hands up, palms still slick. “I’ll call Quinn when we play the Sox. I owe her a couple drinks anyway. The guys will think I like blondes.” 

“Yeah, okay. That’s good. That’ll be good.” Finn huffs out a breath and chews the inside of his cheek. Puck seems like he doesn’t know where to look, and he eventually settles for above Finn’s head. 

“Don’t you ever think about it, though? Just letting it happen?”

“Of course I--hey, Puck.” Puck looks back down, and Finn doesn’t think he’s seen him look so young since they were in high school. “I think about it a lot, okay? But I also think about how we _promised_ ourselves we’d be baseball players first. Not…” Finn waves his hand, because no matter what they told people, everyone would see them as ‘the gay players.’ Finn can’t risk that. They’re so far away from Lima now. 

“I know, okay? I know. I’m just--” Puck shakes his head. “Can we?” Puck gestures to the bed, and Finn holds an arm out to the side so Puck can curl up against his side. 

“I love you,” Finn says into the top of Puck’s head, and kisses his hair. 

“Yeah, me too. Dingus.” Puck tickles across Finn’s ribs until Finn squirms. 

“Do I--” Finn stifles a yawn. “owe you a massage tomorrow?” 

“Tell you what. If you can strike me out, we’ll call it even.” 

 

********

The Thursday after Puck gets his letter from FSU, Finn is sitting in English, staring at his copy of Hamlet and wondering if Mr. Dillard will let him go to the nurse if he says someone poured poison in his ear. He’s listened to Quinn talk about Ophelia enough to know that Mr. Dillard is being a douchebag about her, and Finn’s just about to say so when the classroom phone rings. 

Before Mr. Dillard can finish nodding at Finn, Finn’s halfway out the door, almost tripping on some kid’s bag in the aisle. He stops at Puck’s History class and bangs on the door until Puck runs out, grinning and waving off his teacher on the way. 

“Let’s do this.”

By the time they get to coach’s office, she’s standing in the doorway, holding an envelope. Finn stops in his tracks, suddenly terrified. He looks at Puck, and he must look like how he feels, because Puck puts a hand on Finn’s shoulder and takes the envelope. 

“We’re gonna…” Puck must gesture to Coach, even though Finn can’t really focus on anything except how loud his heartbeat sounds in his chest. He puts his hand on the back of Finn’s arm and leads them to the far corner of the empty gym. 

“You ready?” 

Finn nods, exhaling. Puck looks at the front of the envelope. “It’s where we thought.”

Nebraska. Finn’s first and basically only choice. Finn paces back and forth in front of the bleachers, trying to breathe like a normal person instead of a one of those tv women in labor. 

“Okay yeah. Yeah let’s open it.” Finn says, when he finally walks back up to Puck. Puck raises an eyebrow. “Can you?” 

Puck shakes his head. “You should,” he says gently. “You’ll want to remember it like this.”

Finn’s hands can’t stop shaking, but he manages to get the envelope half-opened, half-ripped, and the letter out and unfolded away from him. He looks up at Puck, who is looking right back at Finn and nodding. Finn flips the letter back over and looks down. 

He’s going to be a Husker. 

“Oh shit! Oh shit! Oh shit, Puck!” 

“Yeah? Knew it! I knew it! King Hudson!”

Finn can’t stop staring at the letter and grinning. None of this feels real, not even Puck smacking him hard on the arm and whooping. 

“We’re doing this. We’re _doing_ this, Finn. You. And me.” 

“Oh shit!” Finn looks up at Puck, still grinning. He feels kind of dizzy but mostly awesome, and he puts his hands on the top of his head to try and keep his head from spinning. 

“Big league, right?” 

“Yeah. Hell yeah!” Finn feels everything start to sink in all at once and he grabs Puck, pulling him hard into a hug. He can feel Puck’s grin against his shoulder and his fingers digging hard into Finn’s shoulder blades. It all feels so fucking right and perfect. No one can touch them now. 

When Puck pulls away from the hug, his eyes look a little shiny, but Finn’s aren’t any better. Puck’s still grinning at him--Finn doesn’t think he’s stopped since he threw the envelope on the ground--Finn’s head still feels spinny and awesome, and he decides they both deserve congratulations. 

It’s better than the first kiss probably because this time Finn knows it’s okay to like it, but also because _Puck_ seems like he likes it a whole hell of a lot too. One of Puck’s hands is in Finn’s hair and the other one is on the back of his neck and he has one leg between Finn’s. Finn lets his lips part a little, and Puck deepens the kiss immediately. 

Finn doesn’t realize that Puck’s been moving them backwards until his back hits the side of the bleachers, and he slides both hands to Puck’s back to pull him closer. He keeps waiting for something to feel terrifying, but it just gets better and better. Finn drags the tip of his tongue along the roof of Puck’s mouth. Puck makes a noise into his mouth and digs his nails into Finn’s neck, and Finn realizes he needs to stop or both of them are going to be in trouble. 

“Some people pop champagne...” Finn shrugs and grins. 

“My turn to buy Joey’s?” Puck claps Finn on the back as they walk back to the office.

“Yeah, but we’re _both_ getting onions this time.”

 

Unlike after Puck’s letter, Finn’s not at all unsure about what Puck’s touches mean, so when Puck comes up to him at their lockers at the end of the day and whispers in Finn’s ear, “Let’s get out of here,” Finn doesn’t ask him to explain. 

They end up at Finn’s house, and Puck has Finn pushed up against Finn’s kitchen counter before Finn can even take his jacket off. They’re kissing in a way Finn could only describe as _hungry_. Puck’s making noises into Finn’s mouth, his hands balled up in Finn’s jacket, and Finn has one hand on the back of Puck’s head and, after some urging from Puck, the other hand on Puck’s ass. Puck shifts so one of his legs is between Finn’s, and Finn can feel Puck hard against his thigh. He knows he must be blushing, but he pushes up against Puck so Puck can feel how hard Finn is, too. 

“Mm!” Puck pulls back from the kiss when Finn nudges his hip, and he looks intently at Finn’s face. “Oh fuck, look at you. You're so hot.” 

Puck’s kisses Finn again before Finn can think too much about that, let alone answer, but he squeezes Puck’s ass experimentally. Puck bucks against Finn at that, and makes a surprised noise into Finn’s mouth, and Finn would grin if his mouth wasn’t so busy. 

“Finn?!”

Finn pulls away so fast that Puck ends up falling against the counter and Finn reaches out ineffectually for Puck in apology. 

“Wait, Puck?!”

Kurt’s standing in the kitchen staring at them, his messenger back on the floor where he apparently dropped it, all of his books and magazines spilling out. 

“Hey, Kurt,” Puck wipes the back of his mouth and leans against the counter next to Finn. “What’s up?” 

“What’s-- What’s up with _me?_?” Kurt’s still gaping at them, and Finn thinks he looks kind of like those meerkats from _Madagascar_. 

“Yeah.” Puck shrugs, and grabs a banana off the counter, peeling it while he talks. “You spilled your books.” 

“But you… You were kissing!”

“Yep!” Finn says cheerfully, taking the half a banana Puck holds out for him. 

“Kissing each _other_!” 

“We know. We were here. We’d probably still be kissing each other, but you’re standing here talking to us about it.” Puck finishes his half a banana in two bites and tosses the peel in the garbage under the sink. 

“But you’re not a _couple_!”

“I dunno,” Puck shrugs again. “Are we a couple, Finn?” 

Finn hadn’t thought about it, mostly because he hadn’t had any time between all of the kissing and now, but the idea sounds kind of awesome, especially if it means more of what they were doing before Kurt interrupted. “Yeah, we’re probably a little bit of a couple.” He grins. 

“See?” Puck gestures to Finn. “A couple. So are we free to continue kissing?” 

“But. You.” 

Puck sighs and pushes off the counter, bending down to hand Kurt his books. “We’re going to go do more kissing somewhere that’s less confusing for you.” He turns back to Finn. “Wanna go be a couple in your room now?” 

 

That sounds like an awesome idea to Finn, so he races Puck up the stairs, locking his bedroom door once they’re both safely in Finn’s room. 

“So,” Puck raises an eyebrow.

“So we’re a couple?” Finn asks hopefully, taking off his jacket and tossing it on the floor. 

“I don’t think there’s any way around it,” Puck says, doing that smile with half his mouth again. “If you can handle us being kickass ballplayers _and_ the hottest couple at McKinley.”

“Kickass ballplayers playing D-I next year!” Finn points out, and Puck sits down on Finn’s bed, patting the spot next to him. Finn sits, and Puck holds out his hand, palm up. 

“And we get to do it together,” Puck says, squeezing Finn’s hand when Finn slides it into Puck’s. 

“This is the best year ever.” 

 

********

By the time June rolls around, Finn’s mostly gotten used to the idea of being the closer. He hasn’t blown any more saves since Puck, but he’s stopped kicking clubhouse chairs every time he puts runners on base. What he hasn’t been able to get used to, though, is the attention. He’d thought, for some reason, that maybe he’d just be in the spotlight during games and go invisible for everything else. Like when Superman puts on glasses and everyone leaves him alone unless he needs to write a newspaper story. People knew Finn in Lincoln, but baseball isn’t football, and Finn could slide under the radar most of the time, even with the occasional wave on the street or an autograph for a kid at McDonald’s. And fans in minor league cities mostly go to games to drink beer and see the mascots, so Finn could stand right next to them before games and, as long as he was in street clothes, no one knew who he was. 

But people are starting to recognize Finn all the time now, and not just in KC. When the Royals played the Phillies just before Memorial Day, Finn started to lose count of how many times he’d been flipped off and called a “Husker hillbilly.” And that was just in the hotel lobby. 

Most of it doesn’t bother Finn. Not really, anyway. He loves meeting people and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t find all of it kind of flattering. Superstars, he and Puck had always said, and feeling it start to come true is awesome and overwhelming and terrifying all at once. But there’s that feeling under everything that he’s one stupid move away from blowing all of it. And he could tell himself that he’s worried about injury or losing his slider or pissing off the wrong people, but not one part of him would believe that, and he’s getting more anxious every day.

The Twins are in KC again, and Puck and Finn are kneeling across a motel bed with an hour before they have to be at the park. It’s the sleaziest motel Finn’s ever let any of his bare skin touch, but Puck’s fucking him so hard he doesn’t care. 

“Want it harder, King Huddy? Huh? You want to feel it when you’re sitting in the dugout, don’t you?” Puck pants out, and the sound of his hips slapping against Finn’s ass are louder than what he’s saying. Finn nods, desperately, and pushes back against Puck’s thrusts. “Want  
to sit there with all the guys, none of them knowing what I just did to you?” 

Finn hears himself moaning at that, and he reaches for his own cock, which has been painfully hard since they walked in the room. 

“Nope.” Puck slaps his hand away. “You don’t need it. Just feel how hard I’m fucking you and think about how you’ll be able to feel it _all_ game.”

Finn cries out and clenches the bedspread in his fists, his head dropping down between his upper arms. 

“What do you think about that? What if you have to pitch? Hmmm?” Puck angles his hips and starts driving down into Finn harder so that Finn has to spread his knees to keep from falling forward. He nods, just enough to let Puck know he’ll take whatever Puck gives him. 

“Standing on the mound, feeling me inside you, knowing 50,000 people are watching and they have no idea.”  
“Close…” Finn gasps out, fighting the urge to touch himself again.

“Come with me then, hmm?” Puck speeds up his thrusts and then Finn can feel Puck’s fingers very lightly brush the underside of his cock and slide back and forth each time Finn rocks forward. “Maybe don’t--” Puck groans, his thrusts getting erratic now. “--don’t shower before the game, either. Then you can really feel me inside you.”

That’s all Finn needs, and he’s coming on the motel bedspread, barely registering Puck filling him up only seconds later. Puck collapses on Finn and starts chuckling. Finn kept help but laugh, too, and soon they’re both laughing until they’re crying. 

“We’re a goddamn cliche,” Puck says,and kisses between Finn’s shoulder blades. “They should make a movie about us. Forbidden Diamond or something.” 

“That sounds like a movie about a jewel heist. Can we be jewel theives?” 

“Can we still do this?”

“Can we do it not in gross motels? Since we’ll have jewel money and stuff,” Finn offers, and Puck kisses his back again. 

“Sure,” Puck says, and then Finn feels him sit up. “But right now we have to get to the park, or else we really may have to find a backup career.” 

 

Finn does, in fact, have to pitch that night, after Gee goes two-and-a-third and their long man pulls a hammy in the fifth. To the lineup’s credit, they battle back, but the Royals are still down by a run in the ninth, when Finn comes in with two out and no one on. 

It all feels kind of crazy and a little bit dangerous, even though Finn knows no one can tell anything’s different. He can already feel Puck on him and in him as he jogs to the mound, and it only gets worse as he goes through his warmups. He’s sort of half-embarrassed and half-turned on. The blood in his body must not know where to go, he thinks, and grins to himself at his joke. He purposely doesn’t look anywhere near the Twins dugout, where Puck’s usually leaning against the railing, but he knows Puck’s watching every move and grinning. 

Finn’s lucky he’s facing the number nine hitter, because every single pitch makes him more embarrassed and more turned on, and by the time he induces a pop-up to the second baseman, Finn’s thanking the baseball gods that he’s wearing a cup. 

The clubhouse is mostly empty when Finn heads right down the tunnel after his outing. He high-fives the clubbies and heads right for the shower, quickly washing away the reminder of the afternoon before anyone else comes in. Finn’s just drying off and pulling on his boxers when the rest of the team trudges in, some of them throwing their hats into their lockers. The clubhouse broadcast is still showing replays of Gebbie’s miserable-looking strikeout when Finn glances up, and he pulls on the rest of his street clothes as fast as he can just in case Gebbie tips over the water cooler again. 

“You and Puck doing something tonight, Huddy?” 

Finn looks over at the outfielders’ lockers, where Atwood’s looking back expectantly. 

“Probably going to ‘Pockets,” Finn shrugs. He hopes Attie doesn’t ask to tag along. 

“Cool, cool. Y’all see a lot of each other when we play them?” 

“Yeah, you know. We go way back,” Finn shrugs again and gives Attie his “dopey” face. “He’s like a brother.” 

“I feel you, Huddy. Kick his ass in pool, aight?” 

“You got it.” Finn shoves his wallet and keys in his pocket and thumbs through his phone to his texts as he heads to the parking lot. 

in the car. what you got for us?

got us a table at anthony’s. hope u feel like italian

lasagna and you sounds like the best night. bring it. 

Finn had been to Anthony’s once before, and it was pretty crowded, so he’s relieved when they get seated in a corner away from most of the people. He and Puck order two lasagnas each--something the waitress doesn’t even blink at. 

“That’s probably what the Chiefs’ linebackers order when they’re already full,” Puck says after she walks away. 

Finn snorts. “That’s what I’d do if I was getting paid millions to be huge.” 

“You probably could,” Puck shrugs. “Remember Colon?” 

“You’d still...if I was as big as Colon?” Finn catches himself in time and lowers his voice, side-eyeing the people a couple tables down.” 

“If you were making millions? Sure,” Puck teases, and curls his fingers around Finn’s hand under the table.  
“Puck…” 

“I looked. We’re okay.” 

Finn nods and squeezes Puck’s hand back. It’s pretty dark in the main dining room, and the people sitting near them are wrapped up in their own conversations. Puck leans his head back against the wall and smiles at Finn.

“Is this real?” 

“Which part?” Finn squeezes Puck’s hand again. 

“All of it.” Puck gestures with his free hand. “Dinner. Baseball. Us.” He shrugs. “The whole damn thing.” 

“If we’re dreaming, at least we’re having the same dream and we’re both in it,” Finn grins. “Which doesn’t sound so bad.” 

The waitress comes over right then with all their lasagnas so they pull their hands away. The food is just as good as Finn remembered, and he and Puck have empty plates and whiskeys in their hands faster than Finn even anticipated. As soon as their plates are cleared, he reaches for Puck’s hand again and tucks their joined hands on the inside of Puck’s thigh. 

“Felt you the whole time, you know,” Finn murmurs into his whiskey.

“How’d that feel?” Puck strokes the back of Finn’s hand with his thumb. 

“A little bit like I wanted to crawl into a hole, but mostly like I wished the game was over and we were alone,” Finn admits. 

“Yeah? Good. The second part, anyway.” 

Finn bites his lip and slides their hands up Puck’s thigh a little, dragging his fingertips along Puck’s seam. He can feel Puck shift his legs open just a bit. Finn gulps the rest of his whiskey and leans toward Puck. 

“I want to kiss you now,” he whispers in Puck’s ear. He feels Puck shift to look behind Finn and around the room before settling back, facing Finn this time. 

“Then kiss me.” 

Puck tastes like whiskey, and Finn licks the taste off Puck’s lips. It’s not a long kiss, but Finn’s heart is racing, and when he puts his free hand up to Puck’s jaw, he can feel Puck’s pulse thumping against his palm. When Finn pulls away, he stares at Puck for a long moment, scared to check to see if anyone saw. Puck must read his mind because he breaks the gaze first and gives the room another glance. 

“Time for the check?” Puck asks, casually, and squeezes Finn’s hand, nodding. 

Finn exhales in a whoosh and signals for the waitress, pulling his hand back in his own lap. He needs to stop being so paranoid. 

The night air is way less sticky by the time they leave Anthony’s, and they walk slowly back to the car, people-watching. There’s a bumper sticker on the car behind theirs that says “I’d Rather Be In Ohio,” and Finn puts his hand on Puck’s waist to get his attention. 

“Having a nice night, _gentlemen_?” 

They turn to see a guy about their age wearing a backwards snap-back and Mizzou shirt and smirking at them. 

“There a problem?” Puck squares his body to face the guy, and the guy chuckles. 

“Just saying hi. It’s such a _cozy_ night, don’t you think?” 

“Move along,” Puck growls, and Finn steps up behind him, arms crossed. 

“Hey, hey, no problem,” the guy says, still chuckling, and puts his hands up in surrender, starting to walk backwards. “By the way, slider’s looking good, Huddy. Enjoy your _evening_.” 

“Fucker,” Puck growls again, once he’s out of sight. “Piece of shit douchebro.” 

Finn sways, and has to grab the trunk of the Ohio car. The whiskey’s threatening to come back up, so he drops to the balls of his feet at the curb and tries to breathe. 

“Finn? Shit, Finn.” Puck must turn and see him, because he drops down next to Finn. “It’s okay. He’s a fucking asshole, but he’s harmless.” He starts to rub the back of Finn’s neck. 

“Don’t,” Finn wheezes. “He _knows_.” 

Puck pulls his hand back like Finn’s skin is searing hot but he stays crouched next to him. Finn still feels nauseous, but he thinks the whiskey might stay put, so he takes a deep breath and looks right at Puck. 

“I can’t.”

“You can’t what?” Puck asks gently, and makes a half-move with his hand like he wants to touch Finn again. Finn just shakes his head because he’s not really sure. He loves baseball, but he loves Puck more, and all he wants is both at the same time without it being so damn _hard_.

“I’m just tired.”

“Me too.” Puck holds his hand out toward Finn and raises an eyebrow. When Finn nods, Puck puts his hand on the back of Finn’s head and brings his forehead to Finn’s. “I think I thought this would be easier.” 

Finn squeezes Puck’s hand, because what else can he do? “Definitely didn’t think we’d be kneeling on the ground behind an old Honda.”

“Those assholes told us the bigs were glamorous. I was thinking more comped dinners and less gravel in my knees.” Puck stands and offers Finn a hand. 

“Maybe it’s some rite of passage or something. You’re not a big leaguer unless you kneel behind a car with a--” Finn hauls himself up and looks down. “‘Boner Donor’ bumper sticker on it.”

“Maybe the free dinners come later?” Puck raises an eyebrow and unlocks their car. 

“I hope so. Because that bumper sticker wasn’t in the shape of a rectangle.”

********

_Number fifty-five, right-handed pitcher Finnnnnn Hudson!_

Finn beams and trots out to the mound, where Coach is waiting for him with his plaque and the rose he’s going to give his mom. He hugs Coach and takes the plaque from her, posing to smile so the woman from the paper can take their picture. He hears a whoop from the stands that sounds like Tina, and he waves to what looks like the entire club, Schue included. 

“Want to say a few words, Cap?” Coach says, and holds a mic out to Finn. He looks over where the rest of the seniors are already standing with their plaques. Puck nods and mouths, “do it,” and points to where Tina is ready with her phone up. 

“Thanks, Coach. And thanks everyone for coming out tonight!” Finn pauses for applause--he swears his mother yells ‘you’re welcome, honey!’--before continuing. “Oh man, these four years have been the best. When I was a skinny kid in little league who tripped over the mound after every pitch, I had no idea I’d be standing here right now with all my favorite people and all _their_ favorite people to thank all of you for your love and support. I think I speak for all of us when I say that we would not be here right now without each and every one of you.” At that, Finn looks at his teammates again, some of who are suspiciously red-eyed.  
“And for me, I want to personally thank my mom for driving me to every field in the county, even when I forgot to take my cleats off in the house after. I love you mom!” He holds out the rose and she comes over from her place on the bleachers with Burt. She takes the rose and kisses his cheek, sniffling the whole time. Finn puts his arm around her. 

“I also want to thank Mr. Schue and everyone in glee.” Finn pauses and gestures to their spot in the stands, where Tina whoops again and everyone else cheers. “These guys are my other other family, and they made me a better singer, a better ballplayer, and a better man.” Finn shrugs. “the jury’s still out on the dancing.” Everyone laughs, and Finn points to the group again. “I love you guys.” 

Tina practically falls off the bleachers trying to cheer and wipe her eyes and video all at once, and Finn waits until Mike’s got her before he continues.

“And last but not least, my best friend, Puck.” Finn turns and looks directly at him. “He’s been with me for this entire thing, and I can honestly say I don’t know where I’d be without him. We’re going to be in different states for the first time ever next year, and it’s going to be weird and hard, but he’s going to be a kicka- kickbutt infielder. Maybe he’ll get me some free tickets when the Reds sign him.” Puck rolls his eyes and grins. “Love you, bro.” 

If you asked Finn later, he’d deny that his voice cracked at all, but Puck wipes his eyes on the neck of his jersey, so he figures they’ll call it even. 

“Now let’s play ball!” 

As last regular-season games go, Finn’s not sure how it could get any better than theirs. Coach lets him pitch seven-and-a-third scoreless before pulling him so he can get a round of applause, which earns him _another_ whoop from Tina, who sounds like she also picked up a noisemaker in between innings. Puck goes 3-for-4, with two doubles and three ribbies, and gets pulled for a pinch runner late so he can also get the Tina treatment. When the dust clears, they win 5-0 and the seniors get doused with champagne--non-alcoholic, Coach insists--in the locker room. 

Puck and Finn pop into the team party for a beer and some ball-busting about Finn’s speech, but grab Sam and leave as soon as they can to head to Artie’s where the rest of glee is waiting. 

When they pull up to Artie’s, Sam jogs ahead, which Finn figured he might, and Puck grabs Finn’s hand. They walk slowly to the front door and are still holding hands when they get there, so they end up maneuvering in a half-single-file through the door, laughing and stumbling over everyone’s shoes in the entryway. 

Parties at Artie’s are usually in his parents’ family room, and when they get there, everyone else is already draped over different pieces of furniture, or each other, or both. Tina whoops when she sees them, and hands them both cups of beer before blowing a noisemaker at them and running off to sit on Mike’s lap. 

“Thought we’d get confetti, at least,” Puck snorts, and pulls Finn over to one side of the couch, opposite where Santana and Brittany are feeding each other Chex mix. 

“I think she spent her energy drinking Miller Light,” Finn gestures to where Tina’s tipping back a bottle. 

“Damn. Is it weird if I’m actually disappointed?”

Puck waits for Finn to sit down and then sits next to him with their legs overlapped. Before they can start drinking, though, someone clears their throat, and Finn looks over to see Rachel standing next to them with her arms folded and a pinched look on her face.

“Did you need something, Rach?” 

“I just wanted to be sure to offer my congratulations to both of you on your successful high school athletic careers as well as your...romantic involvement with each other.” 

“Uh...thanks?” 

“Oh are you done asking Finn every day if his...what did you call it...’unfortunate foray into Noah’s latest misguided idea’ is over yet?”

“Noah!” Rachel is making her fake-hurt face. “I just want Finn to be happy!” 

“I _am_ happy, Rachel. With Puck and with baseball. If you really mean what you just said, you’ll let it go.” 

“Well,” Rachel huffs, and she looks like she’s going to say something else. “I wish you all the best.” Then she turns around quickly and stalks back over to Kurt and Blaine, who are dancing in place with each other. 

“I was hoping we’d get through the night without hearing her thoughts on our relationship, but I should’ve known better,” Puck sighs. 

“Yeah, but,” Finn downs his beer. “it could’ve been worse. It could’ve been _Blaine _.”__

__“If I didn’t think I might lose my scholarship, I’d punch that helmet off his head if he tried.”_ _

__“You’d be doing Kurt a favor, ‘cept I think he wouldn’t think so at first.”_ _

__Puck chugs his beer and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “‘f you ever figure out what he sees in the Hobbit, let me know.”_ _

__“Oh believe me. You’ll be the first person I tell.”_ _

__

__Finn loses count of how many trips he’s taken to the cooler by the time he switches to water. Almost everyone else is either passed out or hooking up, Finn realizes, as he steps over Sam spooning a pillow on his way to the water bottles. Puck is having an animated conversation with a mostly asleep Quinn about the election, and Kurt is flipping through a fashion magazine in the corner, but otherwise everyone seems to be mostly done for the night._ _

__“It looks so easy.” Finn had been so busy wondering if it was too late to learn how to juggle water bottles and if Puck would still date him if he never learned that that he hadn’t heard Kurt come up behind him._ _

__“Wha-- who does?” Finn shakes melted cooler ice off his hands and frowns at Kurt._ _

__“You and Puck,” Kurt says, making his sour lemon ‘thinking’ face._ _

__Finn shrugs. “He’s my best friend.” He starts to walk away but Kurt grabs his sleeve._ _

__“But you never fight!”_ _

__“Well….yeah.” Finn is really confused and probably way too drunk for this conversation. “I mean, sometimes we fight. I got mad at Puck last week for finishing my pop, and back in April he got upset when I wasn’t madder at Bucky for blowing my no-hitter, but we don’t fight about big stuff ‘cause we agree about it. Or sometimes we don’t agree but we talk about it.” Finn’s hands are getting numb and he can’t really remember what Kurt was asking him, so he tries to walk away again, to where Puck looks like he’s finally fallen asleep._ _

__“Finn!” Kurt hisses, and Finn turns back _again_ , shaking feeling back into his hands. “What about when you get famous?” _ _

__“What about it, Kurt? And we’re not getting famous. Can I make Puck drink this so we can all go to bed?”_ _

__Now Kurt looks like someone ruined his favorite Fosse scarf, so Finn sighs and decides to give Kurt one more question._ _

__“Aren’t you worried one of you is going to get more famous than the other and it’ll ruin things? What if Puck tells you that ‘my career is of upmost importance to me, Finn, and sometimes things fall to the wayside in order to accommodate it. You understand, don’t you?’ What would you say?”_ _

__“Did Blaine say--dude, no,” Finn says, shaking his head until he realizes he’s dizzy and has to stop. “I’ve had a lot of beer like all of the beer ever so this might make no sense but anyone who says that doesn’t care about you the way they should. Puck would never say that to me or vice versa, even though I dunno why he’d be talking about that sideways school.” Finn pats Kurt’s arm with his melted-ice hand._ _

__Kurt frowns at his sleeve but manages a smile when he looks back at Finn. “Thanks, brother.”_ _

__Finn shrugs. “‘s what I do best. Pitching and boyfriend advice.” He grins. “Speaking of which, ‘m gonna go use mine as a pillow.”_ _

__He walks back over to the couch, abandoning the bottles of water somewhere between Sam and Quinn, who is now sleeping in a ball on the armchair, and curls up behind Puck, throwing his leg over Puck’s entire body. He doesn’t fall asleep for a long time._ _

__

__Finn thinks that the McKinley field at night with the lights off and Puck pressed against his side might be the best place in the entire universe. It’s been their tradition on weekends all season, and something about the way the shadows hit the diamond and the way they have to lower their voices to talk makes Finn feel happy in that chilled kind of goosebumps way that he can’t get enough of._ _

__Tonight, the last night for a long time and maybe ever, they’re on the dugout bench, passing a cigar back and forth. Neither of them are saying much--just puffing smoke into the night air. Finn occasionally coughs trying for the millionth time to blow smoke rings, and Puck’s free hand is rubbing circles on Finn’s thigh, but otherwise everything is still._ _

__“So fucking lucky,” Puck says softly, and takes the cigar from Finn. Finn doesn’t say anything back for a long minute, just watches Puck wink and successfully blow smoke rings toward the field._ _

__“I really do love you, you know.”_ _

__Puck looks over at Finn. “You’re blushing, _you know_ ,” he says, smiling, and nudges Finn’s calf with his foot. “I love you too.”  
“Yeah, yeah,” Finn grins, taking the cigar back. “You like it.”_ _

__“Like knowing you're doing it cause of me, yep,” Puck says._ _

__Finn puffs on the cigar and slides his hand into Puck’s where it’s still sitting on Finn’s leg. “You still want to make it happen when we leave here?”_ _

__Finn looks out toward the field, but he can feel Puck watching him._ _

__“Know something I don’t?” Puck asks, squeezing Finn’s hand. “Cause I’m all in.”_ _

__“Like…” Finn swallows. “You and me?”_ _

__“Yeah you and me, dingus,” Puck says. “You have someone else in mind?”_ _

__Finn looks over, where Puck is indeed watching him, his eyes big and looking all over Finn’s face like he’s trying to find something._ _

__“Maybe Blaine…” Finn waggles his eyebrows, and Puck cuffs him on the side of the head._ _

__“We’ll leave that Hobbit hair grease to your brother. Shit, can you imagine all the places his gel ends up?”_ _

__Finn makes gagging noises and hands the cigar back to Puck. “Stop! My eyes! My brain! I can’t pitch if I bleach them, Puck!”_ _

__“You started it!” Puck protests, and puffs on the cigar one last time before stubbing it out on the bench._ _

__Finn grins and lets go of Puck’s hand to sling his arm across Puck’s shoulders. “So you and me, huh? Even if we get super famous and they put us on Wheaties boxes and we do Nike commercials?”_ _

__Puck snorts. “Especially then. You think I want to be on a Wheaties box by myself? I look terrible in orange.”_ _

__“Yeah all right cool. Wheaties and all.”_ _

__“Wheaties and all,” Puck repeats, and kisses Finn’s arm where it’s still slung over his shoulders. “Hey did I ever tell you..?”_ _

__“I hope you’re going to say ‘that I’ve always wanted to make out on mound,’ cause me too.”_ _

__“Race you.”_ _

__

__********_ _

__

__Finn’s pretty sure there is nothing in the world worse than the summer heat in Kansas City. He’s been living in his boxers the entire homestand, only putting on clothes to go to the park and White’s Fourth of July barbeque the week before. He can’t remember a time he wasn’t lying in the soup that is the air mixed with his own sweat. Vazquez has started sleeping at his girlfriend’s every night, so Finn takes his mattress and pulls it into the living area, where he’d put a Wal-Mart air conditioner and five fans. Somewhere, high school Finn is telling him to be grateful he’s playing on a big league team, but there are times during the night when Finn actually _slides_ off his mattress that he thinks he might trade one or two saves for some central air. _ _

__So he’s looking forward to heading to Minneapolis for more than just the company. And sure enough, when they land for the beginning of their road trip, it’s at least 15 degrees cooler than it was when they left. Finn begs off at the hotel, like he usually does, and since two of the other guys stay with buddies in the city, he almost always can duck out without suspicion._ _

__He slides down into the backseat of the cab when he gives the driver the hotel address, though, and tries to look as small as possible when he gets the room key. Kurt made the reservation for them this time around, and Finn flushes when he gives the clerk the name. Finn wonders if maybe she hasn’t seen that musical about the French poor people, or if she’s just being polite when she doesn’t flinch._ _

__Puck’s taking early BP, but he must have checked in as soon as he could, because his stuff is already all over the room. Finn steps over Puck’s jeans and starts adding his own clothes to the piles on the floor. They wear shirts and ties to travel, and Finn’s just spent the last five hours feeling like he was being strangled. The hotel notepad is sitting on the bedside table, and Finn can see Puck’s chicken scratch on it._ _

___Beer_  
Pizza  
F’s cookies  
The good lube with the pink label 

__Finn chuckles. Sure enough, the bottle’s sitting in the table drawer in between the Bible and a shoehorn. He’s not sure if he’s more excited about the pizza or the after-game sex, and, as if on cue, his stomach growls right as he’s mulling that over. Scowling, Finn laments the lack of pizza and grabs an apple from his bag, holding it in his mouth as he pulls on a t-shirt and shorts._ _

__When he finishes his apple, Finn ducks into the bathroom to shave before he takes a cab back to Target Field. He has to move Puck’s deodorant and mousse to set his razor on the counter, and he smiles as he does. When it’s just the two of them in these hotel rooms, it’s easy to think that maybe they would still be okay if they came out. They could just hide out together, and if anyone said anything, they’d have each other so fuck everyone else._ _

__The idea is starting to become more and more possible and more and more terrifying to Finn, to the point where he thinks he might be one of Puck’s post-sex coming out suggestions away from accidentally saying yes in a panic.  
But there’s another, louder part of Finn--the part that remembers how hard they’ve both worked to get out of Lima and _be_ something to themselves and each other--that just fucking _can’t_. They’re not supposed to be trailblazers. They’re just two kids from Western Ohio who love each other and love what they do. Their spotlight’s supposed to be for baseball (and every Thanksgiving when Kurt makes them put on a reunion show for McKinley). Pitching is Finn’s stage; if his slider doesn’t break or his changeup’s too fast, he can own that failure. He’s not sure if he’s ready to handle anything else. _ _

__Finn has the cabbie drop him off a half a block from the field, and he takes his time walking to the clubhouse entrance. There are fans tailgating in the far parking lot. It’s 3:30 on a Tuesday, and Finn grins to himself, watching them kick back what looks like cheap cans of beer. The Midwest is the Midwest, and these are Finn’s people._ _

__The clubhouse is still mostly empty when Finn arrives, and he takes his time getting ready. He’s just gone through some extra quad stretches with the trainer when Sveum comes up and nods the trainer away._ _

__“Come chat with me , Hudson.” He claps Finn on the back and leads them both to the visiting manager’s office, Finn’s stomach doing flip-flops the whole way._ _

__“Stadium’s not even ten years old and they couldn’t make a bigger office,” Sveum shakes his head and gestures for Finn to sit. “Sorry there’s not much leg room.”_ _

__Finn nods and swallows but takes a seat, jiggling his leg._ _

__“Son, I just want you to know, that I value each and every one of my guys like they were my own family. I care about all of you and I want to make sure you’re healthy. Not just physically, but mentally and emotionally, too. Are you hearing me?”_ _

__Finn nods again. “Yes sir.”_ _

__“Now if there’s ever anything I can do to help you, even if it’s something you think you might be hesitant to talk about, you just let me know, all right?”_ _

__Finn blinks and tries to figure out if Sveum means what Finn thinks he means._ _

__“Um, yes. I mean, yes sir. I will. Let you know, I mean. If I think there’s something.”_ _

__“Good. That’s good, Hudson. Just want to make sure you know the team’s got your back.”_ _

__“Right. I’ll, uh, keep that in mind.” Finn nods and glances at the door._ _

__“One more thing, and then I’ll letcha get going. I’ve been around a long time, Hudson, and in my experience, guys are better ballplayers when they can be themselves. You think about that, now, ya got me?”_ _

__Finn just nods, mortified, and bolts out of the office as soon as Sveum gives him the go-ahead. He spins away from the office and heads right for the bathroom, where the apple he ate comes right back up in the first stall toilet. He’s not sure if someone said something or saw something or is just a really good guesser. All Finn knows is things are happening with his life that he has no control over, and he doesn’t know how to stop it._ _

__He considers for a brief insane moment not going back into the clubhouse at all, and just walking away from everything. Maybe he could go live with Kurt in New York and sell hot dogs at Yankee Stadium. Or maybe he could be a clubbie with the Twins so he could still be with Puck and not fuck up both their lives doing he’s not even sure what that led to this moment._ _

__But the part of Finn that’s wanted to be a big leaguer since he was eight years old wins out, and he strides back into the clubhouse like nothing terrifying just happened to him. He tries to look at everyone and no one all at once, and ends up just sort of waving to the entire room before starting to pull his uniform on._ _

__A couple of the guys clap him on the back, and Gebbie comes over at one point to steal Finn’s gum, but those things would happen any other day, anyway, so maybe Finn’s just being paranoid. Maybe Sveum just thinks Finn’s dying or something, and wants Finn to feel comfortable telling them all about it._ _

__“What up, Huddy?” Bryce Hunter leans against Finn’s locker frame, popping his gum. Finn hasn’t said more than two words to Hunter since they both made the team out of camp, partially because he doesn’t see the utility infielders a whole hell of a lot, but mostly because Hunter’s a grade-a douche. Like Rick the Stick levels of douchiness._ _

__“Hey?”_ _

__“Doin’ good today? How’s your afternoon going?”_ _

__“It’s good,” Finn says slowly, and grabs his lucky necklace from his locker shelf._ _

__“That’s good, that’s good. Hey, I just want you to know that one of my buddies is...” Hunter makes a kind of hand-flapping flourish. “So it’s cool with me, yanno?”_ _

__“Uh…” Finn just blinks at Hunter, and he knows he’s making what Rachel always called his ‘dumb otter' face. “I don’t-- dude, what?”_ _

__Hunter’s eyes go wide and he waves his hands in front of himself like he’s trying to wipe something clean. “Oh shit. Shit, man, I didn’t know! I thought-- aw, man, I shouldn’t have said anything. I am _so_ sorry, dude.”_ _

__“Uh, it’s okay?” Finn blinks again, trying to process what just happened._ _

__“See you on the field? Yeah, definitely see you on the field,” Hunter rambles, and walks away._ _

__Finn can’t figure out what the hell Bryce was talking about. Something about being cool with-- oh. _Oh._ Well fuck. _ _

__The Target Field lights always seem weirdly brighter to Finn than any other ballpark’s. Maybe they just need to be much more powerful because Minneapolis is so far north. The new lefty they got from Houston is having a hell of a game, so Finn’s spent eight innings chewing sunflower seeds and gum together in one awesome ball and squinting up at the lights, trying not to do too much thinking._ _

__The bullpen phone rings just as Finn has a giant sunflower ball he’s planning to spit at the fence, and Perkins signals his way. Finn ends up spitting the seeds in one gross and awesome glob, which earns a couple snickers and gags from the rest of the guys. He’s only really been paying attention to Puck’s ABs, admittedly, so he peeks up at the lineup while he windmills his arms. Puck’s scheduled to hit fourth, which means Finn can avoid feeling weird and exposed to Sveum and Bryce and who knows who else if he can pitch a clean inning._ _

__

__Despite the terrified queasy feeling he’s had since he walked into Sveum’s office, Finn feels really sharp on the mound. He’s leaning on his change-up tonight, and it’s controlled and smooth, coming out of his hand like it has 15 extra miles on it. White’s grinning at Finn through his mask and shaking his head every time Finn catches a batter in-between, and after Finn K’s the first two batters, White jogs up to the mound to hand Finn the ball._ _

__“Lookin’ like an all-star, Huddy. Stay with the change?”_ _

__Finn looks at the board and chews on the inside of his cheek. Their third baseman’s up, a lefty, and he remembers that the last time they played the twins, the guy hit off-speed stuff pretty well._ _

__“Let’s go slider. Set it up with a four-seamer?”_ _

__“You got it boss,” White says, and taps Finn’s elbow. “Shut ‘em down.”_ _

__When White pops back into his crouch, Finn comes set. He gives the hitter a once-over before hitching his landing leg and powering toward the plate. Everything feels good. His legs feel strong. His grip is sure. Whatever’s going on off the field can’t touch him up here. Finn’s positive of that._ _

__And he gets confirmation of it when the third baseman grounds pitifully to first, ending the game and stranding Puck on the on-deck circle. Finn knows that Puck is probably trying to catch his eye, but Finn can’t chance it now, not after everything. He’ll send Puck a text before he showers, but for now, he needs to soak up the save as long as he can before he gets any more evidence of things starting to crash down._ _

__Finn does grin, despite himself, when he texts Puck after the game and Puck texts back that he needs to run an errand before he swings back to the park. Pizza, Finn remembers, and beer, and the cookies he likes. He gets that warm fuzzy _Puck_ feeling reading the text he’s gotten since they were 17, and he has to hide his face in his locker before he has to make up a girl back home to explain why he can’t stop smiling. _ _

__There are no more weird comments while they all shower and change and head out to the parking lot, but Finn carefully hangs back, feigning a need to talk to the trainer, so by the time he walks outside, the team is gone and Puck is idling the car by the door._ _

__“Hey!” Puck leans over to kiss him, and Finn leans away at the last second._ _

__“Sunflower breath,” Finn shrugs, and moves the pizza and beer off the passenger seat to sit down. “I’ll make it up to you.” Puck seems to find that satisfactory, and they head to the hotel._ _

__Puck did, in fact, get Finn’s favorite cookies, and Finn insists on carrying the cookies and only the cookies into the room as a reward, he says, for embarrassing Puck’s teammates so thoroughly._ _

__They strip down to their boxers and get in bed before putting the open box of pizza and 12-pack between them. Finn pulls the extra pillows behind his back and settles in, sighing as he does._ _

__“Missed you,” Puck says, and pecks Finn on the lips, sauce all over his mouth. Finn grins and takes a messy bite of pizza before kissing him back._ _

__“Me too!” he says, kissing Puck once on the nose for good measure. “No one in KC brings me pizza and beer.”_ _

__“Don’t forget the E.L. Fudge!” Puck looks wounded, and Finn gives him another saucey kiss._ _

__“Never. You and this pizza and those little elfs are all I’ll ever need,” Finn says, a hand over his heart. “Oh, and maybe these sheets. Can we never leave this bed ever?”_ _

__“Sounds good to me.” Puck finishes his slice and peers into the box. “Six left, but only three are All the Meat.” He looks up at Finn, mournfully._ _

__“Take ‘em,” Finn waves his hand and peers around the box. “You think the cookies would taste any good on the pizza?”_ _

__“Dude.” Puck shakes his head. “Dude no. Remember the Cap’n Crunch hot dogs freshman year?”_ _

__“Hmph,” Finn pouts. “I didn’t throw up on _that_ much of your mom’s couch.”_ _

__“No. You didn’t. But you did waste her entire pack of hot dogs because you put the cereal on _all_ of them before you tasted it, and then I had to buy more with my lawn-mowing money. Trust me. Eat the cookies _after_ the pizza.” _ _

__“Fine.” Finn eats the rest of his pizza in a way that he hopes is crabby and sullen, and polishes off a couple more bottles before finally turning to Puck. “Now cookies?”_ _

__Puck snorts and shakes his head. “You want me to feed them to you, too, King Hudson?”_ _

__“Duh.” Finn does, in fact, open his mouth and wait as Puck throws the empty pizza box and gently places the half-empty case of beer on the floor and opens the cookies. He lets Puck put a cookie on his tongue and even bites down before they both start cracking up and Finn has to spit the rest of the cookie into his hand so he doesn’t choke._ _

__“Yeah, that’s probably why we don’t do that ever,” Puck laughs, and helps himself to two cookies, stuffing them both in his mouth._ _

__“C’mere,” Finn holds his arm out and settles back against the pillows. Puck lies down against Finn’s side, pulling the package of cookies with him. “I’m glad you’re here.”_ _

__“Yeah, that makes two of us.” Puck kisses Finn’s chest where he can reach. “Why didn’t we get drafted as a set? We needed better PR, was the problem.”_ _

__“Two for the price of one or something. Bo-go ballplayers?”_ _

__“And we’d even offer to share a room. Because we’re nice like that.”_ _

__Finn swallows, his mouth suddenly dry. “Y-yeah,” he manages. “That’s us. The nice boys from Ohio.”_ _

__“Maybe they’ll put that in the alumni newsletter. ‘Major league ballplayers and confirmed nice boys Finn Hudson and Noah Puckerman...’” Puck cranes his head up to look at Finn. “They’d believe the first part but never the second.”_ _

__Finn chuckles weakly. “Our McKinley legacy. We’re not nice but we play a hell of a game?”_ _

__“And sing. We can sing. And sometimes dance.” Puck turns his face into Finn’s chest to muffle his laughter, but it still shakes the bed._ _

__“Yeah, yeah.” Finn strokes Puck’s back as he starts to calm back down. He doesn’t want to make Puck upset by telling him what happened today, but he doesn’t want to ruin their time together by being miserable, either. “Want me to show you what I _am_ good at?” _ _

__“Oh King Hudson. I am not worthy.”_ _

__

__Finn wonders if everyone still feels this way about their boyfriends or girlfriends after six years. Puck is underneath him, pushing up against Finn every time Finn crooks his fingers just the way Puck likes. Puck’s leaning up desperately to bite at Finn’s mouth with every arch of his hips, driving his tongue into Finn’s mouth each time he moans. Puck is tanned and strong and rolling his hips right into Finn’s _just so_ , and Finn can’t imagine loving anyone else this way. _ _

__“More….please,” Puck gasps out against Finn’s mouth, and Finn pulls his hand back to slide another finger deep into Puck, but Puck shakes his head. “Both.”_ _

__“Both...fingers?”_ _

__“Both. Want you fucking me _and_ fingers.” _ _

___Oh._ This is new. _ _

__“Are you…” Finn pulls his fingers out all the way and uncaps the lube. “Let me know if anything feels weird or hurts or anything, okay?”_ _

__Puck nods and lifts his hips. Finn chuckles and leans down to kiss him. “If you don’t let me do this, it’s _really_ going to hurt.” _ _

__“Dingus,” Puck says, but it’s mostly an impatient exhale, and he wiggles his hips back and forth, waiting. Finn slicks up his cock more generously than usual, and applies extra to the first two fingers of his right hand, and he moves in between Puck’s legs._ _

__Finn would be lying if he said he’d never thought about playing with his and Puck’s limits like this, especially with the way they both preferred Puck to take control. There’s a rush in doing this, Finn admits to himself, and he raises himself up a little bit higher between Puck’s legs before he moves to slide inside him.  
Sinking into Puck always feels like it hits Finn right at the base of the spine and radiates up, and this time is no exception as Finn shudders feeling Puck tight as a vise around him. Puck groans and claws at Finn’s shoulders, so Finn leans down as he bottoms out, kissing Puck hard. He brings his hips back and starts to slowly thrust into Puck, purposely teasing it out until Puck starts to whimper and push back against Finn impatiently. _ _

__“Sorry, did you want something?” Finn chuckles into Puck’s ear._ _

__“Finn, please,” Puck whines and squeezes around Finn’s cock, hard._ _

__“Sir yessir.” Finn reaches down and traces around Puck’s hole, slicking it up as much as he can before nudging his fingertip next to his own cock and sliding it very slowly into Puck, keeping his hips still. “Still okay?”_ _

__“Yeah, yeah. Shit, yeah. I can take more.” Puck shifts his legs open and angles toward Finn’s hand. Finn starts to slowly move his finger in and out of Puck while setting up an awkward rhythm trying to make his finger and hips move opposite each other. He looks down at Puck’s face and Puck’s looking back up at him, eyes half-closed and head tipped back. “Finn, _more_.”_ _

__Finn takes a deep breath and slides a second finger next to the first, feeling Puck clench around everything. He glances down at Puck again, who nods, and Finn starts moving. His rhythm this time is better than his first try, and before long, he realizes that having his fingers inside Puck feels pretty damn good for _him_ too. _ _

__“Good?” Finn pants out, starting to thrust harder. He can feel the reluctant give of Puck’s body around him, everything fitting perfect and snug like the grip on a fastball. Puck just nods and tugs at Finn’s shoulder until Finn leans down to fit their mouths together._ _

__Things are moving fast; faster than Finn can even control. Puck keeps moving his head from side to side, bucking Finn’s mouth away until Finn settles for biting down, hard, on Puck’s shoulder. Puck is making noises Finn’s never heard him make, and every time Finn pushes his fingers and his cock deep into Puck at the same time, the noises get louder. Finn loses track of how long he’s been fucking Puck and biting him--how long Puck has been crying out pleas into his ear--and he’s starting to feel weirdly pleased with himself. He’s able to give Puck this, even if he can’t give Puck what he _really_ wants from Finn, and the thought of being able to do that for Puck and to make him fall apart like this rushes right to Finn’s head. _ _

__He sinks his teeth in, harder than before, and as he tastes blood, he registers Puck stiffen and then clench around him like a vise, arching up one more time before Finn feels Puck come between their bodies. When Puck collapses back against the bed, Finn falls with him, barely able to slide his fingers out as gently as he can before he goes horizontal._ _

__“Hey…” Puck says, and nudges Finn’s face toward him, kissing Finn and flicking his tongue against Finn’s mouth. To lick up the blood, Finn realizes, and he lets Puck make little satisfied noises against his mouth, sucking on Finn’s tongue before pulling back, his eyes all glassy._ _

__“How was that?” Finn asks, knowing the answer but feeling like maybe it wouldn’t hurt to hear Puck say it out loud._ _

__“Pretty fucking amazing.” Puck grins. “Okay, completely fucking amazing. What’d I do to deserve you?” He runs a hand through Finn’s hair._ _

__“Dude, deal with the devil, remember? We were nine. I wished for unlimited Reese’s Peanut Butter Puffs and you wished for a hot major leaguer with a wicked slider.”_ _

__Puck snorts. “My memory must be going.” He kisses Finn again, softly this time, and Finn takes the opportunity to slide out of Puck. Finn never did come, but Puck doesn’t seem to realize and Finn’s not sure that was even the point, anyway._ _

__“Wow. That extra lube makes a much grosser difference, doesn’t it?” Puck wrinkles his nose and wipes lube off his thigh and onto his stomach. “Shower?”_ _

__

__Puck must sense that Finn’s a little bit off, because he keeps his hands mostly off Finn during the shower, only touching him when he washes Finn’s back and the back of his arms. Finn’s not really upset--not with Puck anyway--but the post-sex good-chemical feeling has worn off, and the memory of his weird conversations before the game combined with the feeling that he’s letting Puck down are weighing heavy. He still laughs at Puck’s “slippery when wet” shower jokes, and he still washes Puck’s hair, making a bubble mohawk on top of the regular one like he always does, but he’s getting increasingly anxious and distracted. When he suggests that they turn off the water and dry off for bed, Puck doesn’t protest--just kisses Finn on the side of his neck and squeezes his hand before stepping out and grabbing towels._ _

__Finn feels that heavy weight all the way through drying off and crawling into bed and holding Puck against him until Puck falls asleep. A part of Finn knows that he should just talk to Puck about how he’s feeling, that it would make him feel better and probably help their relationship, but a stronger part of him just can’t make himself share any of this heavy feeling with Puck. Whatever happens with the guys, Finn can handle it. He’ll dodge questions or make up answers if he has to, and it’ll probably just go away soon enough. If Finn’s _really_ lucky, maybe the weird questions will stop before they leave Minneapolis and he and Puck can enjoy the rest of the series without this awful heavy anxiety-ball in Finn’s stomach. Finn stretches his right arm and brings it closer around Puck. Whatever he has to do, if it means that Puck never has to feel this way, too, Finn’s willing to try. _ _

__

__The next morning, Finn wakes up to Puck practically bouncing off the walls. The game’s promotion is “Puck Hair,” and from what Puck described and from the grainy prototype shot he sent Finn the month before, all the kids who come to the game are getting “wigs” of a bald cap with a mohawk on it. Puck’s going to do an autograph booth for the kids before the game and some local artist made a cartoon version of Puck for the jumbotron._ _

__Finn couldn’t be prouder anyway, but Puck’s excitement is infectious, and they’ve already gotten dressed and eaten two breakfast sandwiches apiece at the hotel Starbucks before Finn even starts to feel the heavy ball come back._ _

__He doesn’t get any more weird comments before the game, though, and so he manages to keep the ball at bay for most of his pre-game routine. The mohawk promotion is a huge hit, and some of the guys snag a couple extras from a clubbie, wearing them during warmups and BP. Puck throws out the first pitch, wearing the mohawk-wig on top of his regular mohawk, and then accepts the hand-drawn version of the cartoon from the artist before jogging back to the dugout to cheers and whistles. Finn is able to get most of it on video, and he posts it in parts to Facebook, tagging everyone from glee as well as his mom and Puck’s sister, before texting a couple choice pictures to Sam for his semi-pro team to see and to Kurt so he can show off his “basically brother-in-law” to his New York friends. By the time Finn checks his phone again a few minutes later, he’s gotten 35 “likes” and 20 comments on the videos, including a sarcastic one from Santana asking if Puck’s finally given in to the fact that he’s going bald. There’s also texts from Sam and Kurt, though one of Kurt’s texts seems to be from a guy named “Francisco” asking if Puck is single._ _

__Finn does get one text from Puck before the anthem, a needs more mousse, but he figures he’ll wait until after the game to let Puck know how famous he’s gotten in the last 10 minutes._ _

__Finn’s pitched the last two days in a row, and Sveum swears Finn won’t pitch today even if they run out of pitchers and Gebbie has to take the hill. Finn’s dubious that anyone would let Gebbie anywhere near the mound, let alone to pitch off it, but he shrugs and settles into the dugout to watch his teammates and Puck._ _

__Either his guys had all been out late or the Twins had just taken their vitamins that morning, because it’s not a fair fight from the first inning, when the Twins bat around for four runs, four hits, three walks, and hit-by-pitch. Sodano’s pitching, a rare implosion for him, but because he’s a knuckleballer, at least it means he’ll give the Royals five or six so most of the bullpen can rest. Admittedly, Finn does zone out for portions of the game. It’s a little grosser to make sunflower-gum balls in the dugout, so Finn settles on having a seed-spitting contest with Gee. When Gee wins four games in a row, Finn begs out and busies himself with spinning his crushed Aquafina bottle on his finger. He’s just set a personal record when he glances up to see that Puck’s on deck. Puck must be done with his swings, because he’s looking straight into the Royals’ dugout, head cocked. Finn holds up his water bottle and mimes throwing it at Puck, who shakes his head in that way he does when he’s trying not to laugh. Finn’s still making faces at Puck that’s he’s not 100% sure Puck can see from where he’s standing when he catches Hunter staring at him out of the corner of his eye. Finn freezes, but he makes himself casually flip the bottle into the air and catch it before letting his gaze float across the field. By the time he’s turned far enough to see Hunter full-on, Hunter’s busy tying his shoe._ _

__Finn frowns as the heavy ball comes back all at once, and he spends the rest of the inning trying to breathe around it and look a regular amount interested in Puck’s at-bat instead of like someone’s stupid emotionally inadequate boyfriend. Puck flies out to left, so at least Finn won’t have to fake disappointment, on top of everything else._ _

__The bullpen does do a decent job of holding things down, and Finn was right that Sodano goes six so they only have to use two more pitchers, but the Royals don’t end up making any headway, and the Twins end up winning 7-2. For the first time in a long time, Finn feels relieved for a game to be over, and he jogs into the clubhouse as quickly as he thinks he can get away with without looking pissed at the offense._ _

__Puck had mentioned that he was going to do a presser after the game to talk about the promotion and the Puck-art ( _“I’m gonna make the reporters wear the wig if they want to ask me a question.”_ ), so Finn’s not surprised when he doesn’t get a text right after the Twins file into the tunnel. He _is_ surprised, though, when Sveum comes up next to him just as Finn’s pulling his shirt over his head, and puts his hand heavy on his shoulder._ _

__“You should probably come with me. Puckerman said something you’ll want to hear.”_ _

__

__********_ _

__“What’re you, growing gills in there, Cap?!” Finn slumps against the wall outside the bathroom in his shower shoes, a towel wrapped around his waist._ _

__“Hey, some of us care about our appearance, Huddy!” Capuano chirps back, and then Finn can hear him start whistling. Finn groans. He and Cap are the only ones in their suite who can’t go back to sleep after AM lifting, and they’re supposed to take turns showering first, but Cap keeps insisting that his hair takes longer to style._ _

__“Get out or I’m coming in with you!”_ _

__“Didn’t think I was your type!” Cap goes back to whistling, and Finn wants to smack past-him when he realizes what song it is._ _

__“NO MORE YOUTUBE, CAP!”_ _

__“ _livin’ in a lonely worrrrrld_ ”_ _

__“That’s it! I’m getting dressed and going to breakfast and _GOOD LUCK HAVING FRENCH TOAST AFTER I’VE EATEN IT ALL.”__ _

___“BEEN DOING THIS FOR OVER A YEAR, HUDDY! I’LL NEVER GET SICK OF IT!”_ _ _

___Finn quickly changes and heads to the dining hall before Cap can block his French toast-stealing efforts. His phone rings before he can swipe in at the front desk._ _ _

___“Guess what I’m doing right now?”_ _ _

___“Is it eating all the French toast ‘cause your suitemate wouldn’t let you in the shower? Because that’s what I’m about to do.”_ _ _

___“In the shower, huh? Did you want to soap him up?” Finn can hear Puck grinning._ _ _

___“Yeah, you know my type. Short and smart-ass--oh wait.”_ _ _

___Puck snorts. “If you do end up showering with him, make sure he knows not to even try to wash your hair or he’ll get a stiff neck.”_ _ _

___“You got that stiff neck doing something else and you know it.” Finn dawdles outside the dining hall, leaning against the brick and nodding at the groups of girls who wave at him on their way in._ _ _

___“Make sure he doesn’t try to do that either!”_ _ _

___“I’ll make a note. I’m going to go do that French toast thing now.”_ _ _

___“You do that. I love you.”_ _ _

___“Yeah, I--” Finn turns in toward the wall. “I love you too. Call me after your game?”_ _ _

___“Call me after _yours_?” _ _ _

___Finn chuckles. “Want to just Skype at 11?” He swipes his card and starts walking toward the food._ _ _

___“Game recaps and Skype sex? Finn Hudson, we’re becoming one of those boring couples who plays D-I ball and jacks off together every night. Don’t tell Kurt.”_ _ _

___This time, it’s Finn’s turn to snort. “I’ll try my best.”_ _ _

___ _

___They do trade game recaps and they do jack off together on Skype, and afterward they just sit together and watch Sons of Anarchy on Chromecast, occasionally making comments (Puck swears that if he was on SAMCRO he could get Jax to fuck him. Finn isn’t so sure) or remembering things to tell each other but mostly just enjoying “being together” in the best way they’ve figured out how._ _ _

___The advantage of their second year compared to their first, Finn’s figured out, is that they get to spend less time proving they earned their scholarships and more time _really_ honing their skill. Finn’s been working on a slider to go with his changeup, and Coach hasn’t held back about how it’s developing--the good _and_ the bad. But the end result is that he’s been getting more innings, and more of them have been high-leverage, and he’s actually getting outs. _ _ _

___Puck’s still not starting on a regular basis, but he’s hitting over .300, and he sounds more and more confident lately that he’ll be a regular sooner rather than later. Either way, he says, he’s becoming something of a celebrity on campus, with his hair and his guitar and the fact that he hangs around with the _Supernatural_ fanclub instead of his team on off days. When Finn had asked Puck about the last thing, Puck had shrugged. “They kept talking about ‘Destiel’ and by the time I realized that it wasn’t an 80’s soap opera, they’d sort of already become my friends.” _ _ _

___The other thing that’s different is that they can’t fly under the radar as much anymore. Last year, they could stay at each other’s dorms, or take vacations together and put the pictures on Facebook, or talk about each other with their teammates without thinking too much about it. But Finn just did his first real interview with ESPN, not counting that thing he did a couple years ago where they asked a bunch of high school players what their favorite pizza topping was. People are starting to notice them, and know their names, and all of it’s really exciting but also terrifying._ _ _

___It’s the terrifying part that makes Finn bring it up one Monday in April, after they’ve both finished their off-day workouts and are watching _Friends_ reruns together on Skype. _ _ _

___“Wait, I don’t get it. They were on a break.”_ _ _

___“ _That’s_ what you don’t get?” Puck shovels an entire handful of popcorn in his mouth. “There’ve a chi’en and a-- a chicken and a duck living in an apartment!” _ _ _

___“I want a chicken and a duck when we get an apartment,” Finn says, pouting.  
“Yeah, okay, that does sound kind of awesome. Just don’t eat them!”_ _ _

___“Why would I eat our pets?!”_ _ _

___Puck shrugs. “I don’t know. You probably wouldn’t. I’m just saying.”_ _ _

___“Thinks I’m going to eat our pets,” Finn grumbles to himself. “Oh but hey! I have to ask you something.”_ _ _

___Puck wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and peers at the screen. “That sounds like a serious ‘I have to ask you something.’ Not a ‘I have to ask you if you think I should get a face tattoo.’ The answer’s no, by the way, unless you can get a picture of your face as the tattoo. Then you could freak everyone out.”_ _ _

___“I’m not getting a face tattoo _or_ eating my pets,” Finn says, shaking his head and giving his best “offended” look. “I want to know what you want to do about telling people. You know, since we’re not going to be able to pretend we’re not big famous ballplayers for much longer.” _ _ _

___“Hmmm,” Puck twists his mouth to the side. “What do _you_ want to do?” He looks a little unsure, like he doesn’t want to say the wrong thing, which Finn’s not used to seeing from Puck. _ _ _

___“Maybe we should probably keep it quiet for a while?” It’s more of a statement than a question, but Finn figures leaving it at least a little bit open-ended gives them the best chance of coming to a decision without fighting and making the entire thing pointless in the end._ _ _

___“Yeah, that’s probably our best chance to do this our way.” Puck frowns, but it looks to Finn like Puck’s thinking-everything-through frown, not his pissed-off one. Then he nods firmly and grins. “Superstars.”_ _ _

___“That’s us.” Finn grins back “But I got one more question for you.”_ _ _

___Puck raises an eyebrow._ _ _

___“Why didn’t anyone bathe that cat?”_ _ _

___Puck shakes his head. “I still can’t figure out why our moms liked this show.”_ _ _

___ _

___Hawks has never felt like this before: dead-silent, the air thick and waiting. Finn takes a deep breath, and even that sounds deafening to his ears. He takes a moment to sharpen his senses and soak everything in. Cap is right in Finn’s line of sight, but he’s not looking anywhere near Finn--probably purposely, Finn figures. Finn turns the ball over in his hand and feels his filed-down thumbnail catch on a stitch. He runs his thumb over the rest of the seam, pressing down to feel the rough pattern dig into his skin. There’s no way he can leave an imprint that lasts forever, Finn knows, but maybe he can keep the memory for a little while. He tells himself it’s just his imagination, but Finn’s never breathed in the stadium air the same way he does as it whooshes past him when his arms fly into his windup. Johnson’s in his crouch, his glove a massive target in Finn’s line of sight, and suddenly there’s nothing standing between Finn and history._ _ _

___Finn knows he’s going to do it before his left leg hits the dirt--his stride as smooth as it’s ever been and the ball sailing out of his hand like he can put it in Johnson’s glove himself. He doesn’t even register the bat flying over the top of the pitch, but he can hear the “thwack” when the ball hits its mark, and then he’s on his knees, his teammates piling on top of him._ _ _

___He’s not sure when the cries of “No-hit Huddy!” and “attaboy!” die down and he’s finally helped to his feet, but it feels like forever that he’s in the pile, soaking up the cheers and slaps on the back and the occasional loud silly kiss on top of his head. Puck had said he’d be bootleg-streaming it, like he usually does, and Finn can’t wait to talk to him, but for now, he’ll take the adoration from Lincoln._ _ _

___Finn’s pulled toward the dugout, and he gets about half a second before he’s under a freezing-cold Gatorade shower. He whoops with laughter and chases after Cap, who tosses the cooler toward first base. Finn hears a whistle, and when he looks up, his mom and Burt are standing next to the dugout, waving and jumping up and down. Well, his mom is jumping up and down. Burt just looks really really proud and sort of sweaty. Finn realizes that not only has he not yet gone over to them, he hasn’t acknowledged the crowd, which makes his face burn hot under the Gatorade shower. He retrieves his cap from where someone--he has no idea who--knocked it over in the scrum, and tips it to the crowd, making sure to wave to each section of the stands. Finn hadn’t thought the cheers could get louder than they were when the last pitch hit Johnson’s glove, but he was apparently wrong._ _ _

___Finn doesn’t think he’ll ever stop grinning, and he wonders if the applause is some kind of drug because he feels like he’s walking on air. With a final hat tip to the crowed, he jogs over to his mom and Burt, who look about ready to run onto the field themselves, Gatorade and all. He bends down so his mom can hug him, and she holds on to him for a long time, apparently not caring about the orange dye messing up her clothes._ _ _

___“We’re real proud of you, son.” Burt slaps Finn on the back and puts his other hand on Finn’s mom’s shoulder. “A no-no! How about that!”_ _ _

___“Oh gosh, honey, this is just…” She sniffles against his jersey. “I’m so proud of you!”_ _ _

___“I told your mom she brought you good luck, Finn.”_ _ _

___“Oh, hey, that’s right!” Finn gently un-hugs himself from his mom and pulls Burt into a one-armed hug. “Hey, mom, good job picking this week! Last week I got hit pretty hard.”_ _ _

___His mom beams, and then suddenly reaches for her purse._ _ _

___“Oh! Before I forget! Noah told me to make sure I showed you my texts because he said he knew you’d see me before you saw your phone.” She hands Finn her phone and Finn scrolls through. There are a _lot_._ _ _

___think you’re some kinda ballplayer now huh_ _ _

___does this mean i have to sit with the wives when you’re famous_ _ _

___no one better be grabbing places they’re not supposed to grab in that pile_ _ _

___if they grabbed places they’re not supposed to grab i’ll drive up in disguise and punch them in the face_ _ _

___how cold is that gatorade_ _ _

___how sticky is it_ _ _

___is it weird if i kind of want to lick it off you_ _ _

___yeah no that’s kind of weird_ _ _

___i love sharing you when everyone gets to see how awesome you are_ _ _

___you deserve it. soak it up._ _ _

___if I leave right now i can be in Lincoln by 10 tomorrow_ _ _

___that’s crazy right_ _ _

___i have class on monday_ _ _

___oh you found Burt and Carole_ _ _

___you’re going to see these soon_ _ _

___fuck it i’ve got my keys in my hand_ _ _

___i love you_ _ _

___i’ll see you tomorrow._ _ _

___ _

___Third year means that Finn and the guys got into on-campus apartments, so he and Cap each have their own room--something Finn has never been more grateful for than when he hears his bedroom door open the next morning and a Puck-like person slides into bed behind him._ _ _

___“Mmm, King Hudson,” Puck kisses the back of Finn’s neck and wraps an arm across Finn’s chest._ _ _

___“‘m not…” Finn can feel himself blushing_ _ _

___“Sure you are. King of all kinds of things.” Puck lets his hand travel down Finn’s stomach until his fingers hit the waistband of Finn’s shorts. “Want me to show you one of them?” Puck breathes into Finn’s ear._ _ _

___Finn nods, and Puck slips his fingertips under the waistband, leaning closer to drag his tongue up the edge of Finn’s ear as his fingers slide lower and lower. Finn shudders and tilts his head toward Puck’s mouth. Puck chuckles._ _ _

___“You like that?” His voice is low and rumbling, his mouth right against Finn’s ear, and Finn nods as carefully as he can so as not to stop Puck from what he’s doing. “Thought so.” Puck drags his tongue along Finn’s ear again and then nips at Finn’s earlobe, tugging a little with his teeth. His hand had stopped moving in Finn’s shorts, but at the whimper Finn swears he _did not make_ , Puck slides his hand far enough down to wrap his fingers around the base of Finn’s cock. _ _ _

___“Hard for me already?” Puck asks, and he sounds half-amused and half-proud of himself. Finn feels the blush travel down his neck. “Hell yeah there it is. That’s just for me too.” Puck strokes Finn’s cock once, running his thumb over the tip._ _ _

___“I’m going to do jerk you off now, okay? I’m going to do it until you come all over my hand, and then I’m going to watch you lick my hand clean. How does that sound?”_ _ _

___Oh. Oh fuck. Yeah, Finn can more than live with that, and he manages a “Yeah. Please.” Puck chuckles against Finn’s neck, where he’s started sucking on the skin below Finn’s ear in open-mouthed kisses._ _ _

___Puck brings his hand back up to Finn’s mouth. “Get it ready,” he orders, and Finn obeys immediately, licking up Puck’s palm until it’s at least a little bit slicker than it was before. Puck slides his hand back down to Finn’s waistband again, this time pushing Finn’s shorts down past his cock.  
“God, look how hot you are,” Puck almost purrs. “Look how big you are in my hand.” He starts stroking Finn slowly, teasing under the head with each pass. Finn’s hips are already jumping, and he tries to roll them up to meet Puck’s strokes, but when he tries, Puck stops his hand completely. _ _ _

___“Pretty sure I told you that _I_ was going to make you come. Not that you were going to help me.” _ _ _

___Finn bites his lip hard but he does manage to keep his hips still when Puck resumes his stroking, a little bit faster this time. Finn has no idea how he hasn’t come already, even though Puck’s barely been touching him, and Puck must sense that, because he tightens his grip just a little._ _ _

___“They all see you on the mound. You pitch like a fucking superstar and everyone can tell as soon as they see you. But none of them get to see you like this.” Puck’s lips are back at Finn’s ear, and the low rumble is sending chills everywhere. Finn reaches back to grip Puck’s hip, digging his fingers in._ _ _

___“Yep. Look how hot you are. You can’t even hold still, you’re dying to come so bad.” Puck speeds his hand up. “What if I told you that all I wanted right now was to see you come? Huh? What if I said that you’re the fucking hottest thing I’ve ever seen when you lose control?”_ _ _

___Finn groans and arches his back and then he’s coming. He can feel his nails breaking the skin of Puck’s hip, but he can’t make himself care as he comes for what feels like forever, Puck kissing his neck and ear all the way through._ _ _

___As Finn’s still coming down, he feels Puck bring his own hand up to Finn’s mouth. “Clean up the mess you made,” he murmurs, and Finn does until Puck pulls his hand away. Finn turns over and looks at Puck for the first time since Puck let himself in the room._ _ _

___“Hey,” Finn says, a lot more quietly than he intended._ _ _

___“Hey,” Puck answers, and grins, propping his head up on his hand. “I really am so fucking proud of you, you know.”_ _ _

___Finn laughs. “I’d hate to see what you do when you’re _not_.” _ _ _

___Puck reaches out and links their hands. “A little over a year and then we get to try this thing for real.” He looks over Finn’s shoulder, still squeezing Finn’s hand. “We’re going to make it.”_ _ _

___Puck’s not blowing smoke, and Finn knows it. Finn keeps ignoring it when his coach or the Lincoln media mentions it, but he’s top five in almost every major category in the Big Ten. It’s kind of weird and awesome all at once, but what makes it all even better is that Puck’s kicking ass, too.  
“Yeah, except if you go to Boston. Then I’ll probably just stop talking to you.”_ _ _

___Puck snorts. “Gonna be hard to ignore the very first second baseman-slash-stadium singer!”_ _ _

___Finn groans and hits Puck with a pillow before Puck can get to the “so good! so good!” part._ _ _

___“Hey, but what if you end up with the Marlins and I go to the Mariners or something? Or you go to Toronto and I go to San Diego?”_ _ _

___Puck lifts one shoulder up in a half-shrug. “Then we steal everyone’s frequent flier miles and make all our off-days really hectic and awesome. I could go out of retirement and hope one of the guys is a snot who judges me for not having Sarkozy crystal cleats, or whatever those things were that your brother tried to get us to wear senior year.”_ _ _

___“Dude, those were a safety hazard. I think I would have blinded myself from the sun reflecting off all those diamond things,” Finn says, his eyes widening._ _ _

___“Yeah, so let’s hope someone on the team is super judgey like that and also has some miles I can shake him down for.” Puck lifts their joined hands in a flourish. “Problem solved.”_ _ _

___“I’ll come visit you in prison. Promise.” Finn grins and leans over to kiss Puck softly. Puck waggles his eyebrows. “Yes, conjugal visits, too.”_ _ _

___“Be still my heart.” Puck kisses Finn back. “I’m here for another 24 hours. Want to sleep, or…?”_ _ _

___“Pretty sure I’m king of some other stuff we haven’t talked about yet.”_ _ _

___Puck grins and tugs Finn on top of him. “Man, I love baseball.”_ _ _

___ _

___********_ _ _

___Finn heads to the hotel on foot, running as far as he can before he realizes that a: there’s no possible way he can run that far, and b: if he wants to get back to the room before Puck, he needs to get a cab. He asks Siri for a cab company while he at least tucks in his shirt and buckles his belt so he doesn’t scare the driver. He feels for his wallet, making sure that he remembered to grab that and his room key when he ran out of the clubhouse._ _ _

___Finn’s heart is racing--has been since Sveum played the clip--and he paces in front of the beer garden where he abruptly stopped, praying that everyone in there is too drunk to recognize him. The cab pulls up before Finn’s even started to calm down, so Finn ends up spending the entire ride cracking his knuckles and trying to breathe._ _ _

___He does, in fact, get to the room before Puck, and he thanks the universe for that little break, at least. A quick sweep of the bathroom and Finn comes back out with handfuls of toiletries, some of which might not even be his. He eyes the clothes on the floor and grabs everything he can find that looks like it belongs to him, shoving all of it in his bag as fast as he can. Finn’s eye catches the half-eaten package of cookies on the bedside table and his stomach turns. He dumps the entire package in the trash, getting a tiny amount of satisfaction at the way they “clunk” onto the bottom of the can. Finn’s just hauled his bag over his shoulder when his phone chimes. He almost doesn’t check it--almost heads out of the room and out of the hotel and back to stay with his team without looking back. But something bigger wins out, and Finn sags back onto the bed, letting his bag fall heavily to the floor._ _ _

____i’m sorry pls don’t go omw now_ _ _ _

___Finn runs a hand over his face. The fucked-up part of all of this is that Puck wouldn’t run, if the positions were reversed. Puck would stay and talk to Finn and be angry or hurt or betrayed or whatever _with Finn_. Not halfway across the city like some asshole. _ _ _

___Waiting here._ _ _

___Finn sighs to himself and shoots off one more message before he puts the phone away._ _ _

___I still love u_ _ _

___ _

___Finn can hear when Puck gets to the door, because footsteps stop and stay there for what seems like several long minutes. Finally, Finn hears the card click in the lock. Puck steps slowly into the room, peeing around the door at Finn first before closing the door and leaning against it._ _ _

___“Finn…”_ _ _

___“What the fuck happened?” Finn’s feels more exhausted and betrayed than angry._ _ _

___“I...I slipped up, Finn. I’m sorry. I don’t...I’m so sorry.”_ _ _

___“Yeah, me fucking too,” Finn spits out, his hands ball into fists and the anger starts to rise back up._ _ _

___Puck hangs his head and shoves his hands in his pocket. “I don’t blame you if you, you know, don’t want to do this now.”_ _ _

___“Don’t-- wait, are you asking if I want to break up with you?” Finn shakes his head at Puck in disbelief._ _ _

___Puck shrugs. “Look, if it’s between your career and mine, you deserve the shot at being something really special. I can’t fuck that up for you.”_ _ _

___“Are you fucking kidding me?” Finn sputters. “Don’t act like this is something that just happened to you! You made the choice to say what you said. It’s not like we never talked about this! Fuck, Puck, we’ve been talking about this for as long as I can remember!”_ _ _

___“You think I did this on _purpose_?!” Puck pushes off from the door and walks toward the bed. “You think I _wanted_ to hurt you and us?” _ _ _

___“I don’t know, Puck. I don’t fucking know, okay? What I know is that one minute I was changing at my locker and the next minute I was watching _you_ almost out us. What else am I supposed to think?” Finn stands up to meet Puck halfway, his hands on his hips._ _ _

___“You’re supposed to know I wouldn’t hurt you on purpose!” Puck’s practically shouting now, though the words sound like they’re getting caught in his throat. He wipes the back of his hand over his eyes._ _ _

___“I...I’m just really upset right now.” Finn’s getting choked up, too, and he tries to look anywhere but Puck. “It was supposed to be you and me.”_ _ _

___“It still is! Fuck, Finn, is that all it was going to take? One mistake? I _love_ you.” Finn looks back over at Puck, who’s frowning, his arms out to his sides. _ _ _

___“It’s not…” Finn shakes his head. “If it was you and me for real, why did you say that? Why...Puck, we _promised_.” _ _ _

___Puck throws his hands up. “Fuck. I _know_. I told you I fucked up. I told you I was sorry. I told you I love you. Tell me what the fuck else you want me to fucking do, Finn!” Puck spins around and slams his palm on the wall next to the door. “WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO?”_ _ _

___“Maybe you should figure that out.” Finn hefts his bag over his shoulder and blinks away the burning in his eyes._ _ _

___“The fuck?”_ _ _

___Finn looks straight ahead and walks to the door, taking a deep breath once his hand is on the handle._ _ _

___“Let me know when you do.”_ _ _

___Finn doesn’t dare look back, just keeps walking out the door and down to the lobby and out onto the street, choking back what he’s sure are going to be loud embarrassing snotty sobs. He manages to make it back to the Royals’ hotel in a cab and up to what was supposed to be his room before he lets the crying happen. It _is_ loud and it _is_ a snotty mess, but he lets it happen until he falls asleep in his clothes on top of the comforter, his eyes puffy and swollen._ _ _

___When Finn wakes up, the sun’s barely coming through the drapes, but his pounding headache gets him out of bed instead of trying to sleep until a more reasonable time. He takes a hot shower, dry-swallowing four Advil before he steps in. He’s feeling moderately more human after his shower, so he heads down to the gym and runs through his workout. Two miles and some light upper body lifting later, Finn feels ready for breakfast and coffee, which he grabs at the hotel cafe, all the while trying not to think about his phone sitting on the bedside table. He’s not sure if coming back to nothing will make him feel better or worse, and he stews about it while he eats his sandwich._ _ _

___Everything feels really raw and horrible, like Puck’s interview made the anxiety-ball explode. Finn knows that Puck didn’t mean to almost out them, but he can’t help but feel betrayed. The one thing both of them had been sure to talk about every single step of the way was how open they were going to be. It was supposed to be both of them. Whenever and however it happened, they were going to be together._ _ _

___And now Finn doesn’t know what Puck wants, if he ever wanted that to begin with.  
Everything’s feels weird and awful and part of Finn wants to head back to their hotel or to Puck’s apartment or even to Target Field early just to see if he can find Puck and talk it out and maybe make out a little before game time. But another part of him--a bigger part--just can’t think about Puck right now. The anxiety ball has taken over, and Finn decides he needs to just keep focusing on baseball. Maybe if he puts all his energy into pitching, he won’t worry about what Puck might be doing or saying or thinking._ _ _

___It’s a crazy idea, Finn already knows, but until the anxiety ball is gone, he doesn’t really have another choice. If he tries to talk to Puck now, he’ll probably end up storming out again, and what he _is_ sure he wants is for them to end up together. Even with all his hurt and anxiety, Finn can admit that. _ _ _

___When Finn gets back to his room, he paces for a while in front of his bed, phone in his hand, before he can bring himself to check it. There’s a Facebook notification from Sam, who commented on the mohawk pictures with a picture of his teammates giving themselves faux-hawks in Puck’s honor. There are a couple notes on Finn’s Flash tumblr, which he swipes out of the way. And there’s one text from Puck:_ _ _

___i’m still here_ _ _

___Finn suppresses another urge to drop everything and head to find Puck, but he pulls up tumblr instead and reblogs some Barry/Cisco photosets instead. If The Flash can stop a freaking black hole, Finn can get through the rest of the series._ _ _

___ _

___The Royals get killed again, but Finn gets to watch the carnage from the bullpen this time, which means he doesn’t have to be anywhere near where he can see Puck or see if Puck is looking at him. After the final out, Finn heads back across the field with the rest of the bullpen, shouldering the My Little Pony rookie backpack and trying not to look into the first-base dugout._ _ _

___Finn manages to get showered and changed and to the airport before everything really starts to sink in. There haven’t been any more texts since early that morning, and Finn’s not sure if that makes him feel better or worse. He realizes at some point between security and takeoff that he should at least let Puck know that he’s not going anywhere, either, but he’s not sure how to do that without _talking_ to Puck, which is the one thing he doesn’t think he can do right now. _ _ _

___He thinks about it the entire flight, and he thinks about it on the way from the stadium to his apartment, and he’s still thinking about it when he sits in front of the TV at midnight eating Cinnamon Toast Crunch and thumbing through his Tumblr dash. It isn’t until he gets to a post about the new all-people-of-color Superman movie that he hits on an idea._ _ _

___“Please be there, please be there,” Finn mutters, listening to the throb of the rings._ _ _

___“‘lo?”_ _ _

___“Oh hey, uh,” Finn clears his throat. “Hey Jake. It’s Finn. Hudson. Mr. Hudson. No, just Finn.”_ _ _

___Jake chuckles. “I know, man. Your name shows up when you call someone.”_ _ _

___“Oh, right. Of course.” Finn makes a face at himself. “How are you doing?”_ _ _

___“Things are good. Can’t complain. Working at a summer showcase right now, so I’m dancing all the damn time.” Jake laughs. “Pretty much the summer of my dreams, if you want to know the truth.”_ _ _

___“Yeah, I bet. How’s everyone?”_ _ _

___“Aw, man, they’re awesome. Mar’s been tutoring all summer and Ryder’s working at this camp for kids with learning disabilities. So we never see each other, but they’re doing so good.”_ _ _

___“Hey, that’s really cool.” Finn pauses to make it sound like he didn’t just call to ask Jake an awkward favor, but then the pause stretches on so long that he thinks maybe Jake just hung up._ _ _

___“Finn?”_ _ _

___“Oh yeah um. Have you talked to Puck since this morning?”_ _ _

___“Nah, I was at rehearsal since 7am. Why? Is he okay?” Finn can hear what sounds like Jake grabbing his keys, and he hurries to explain._ _ _

___“No no he’s fine. Everyone’s fine. He’s healthy and..in one piece, or..not injured or whatever.”_ _ _

___“Oh. Oh cool okay. What’s up, then?”_ _ _

___Finn pokes at his soggy Cinnamon Toast Crunch and frowns._ _ _

___“Me and Puck had kind of a thing.” Finn winces when he hears it come out of his mouth._ _ _

___“A...is this going to be something weird?”_ _ _

___“No! Dude! We just had a fight!”_ _ _

___“Oh!” Finn can almost hear Jake shrug then. “Well that’s okay, right? I mean, you guys fight sometimes. Do you need me to referee or something? I look like shit in stripes.”_ _ _

___“No, this is, um. It’s kind of awkward just. Could you get him a message for me?” Finn slumps down on the couch and mentally curses himself, wondering if he should just change his number forever instead._ _ _

___“Yeah, man, no problem. Want to just text me and I’ll send it?”_ _ _

___Finn exhales. “Sure,” he says weakly. “Now please tell me more about your significant others before I sink even farther into this couch.”_ _ _

___ _

___Another week goes by before Finn hears from Puck again. It’s the longest they’ve ever gone without talking since sophomore year of high school, not counting the week Puck dropped his phone in the Erie Canal and hadn’t gotten internet at his apartment yet. Finn busies himself mostly with working on his splitter and playing _Avengers: Black Widow’s Fury_ tournaments with the guys. He tries to beat his high score in Mario, but it reminds him too much of Puck, so he ends up playing _Cookie Crumbs_ on his phone for hours instead. _ _ _

___Finn’s staring into his fridge, looking for lunch and wondering how long Vazquez’s had that pizza in there, when he hears his phone chime from the living room couch. Even with a week of not hearing from Puck, and even with expecting that he _won’t_ hear from Puck, Finn’s heart jumps into his throat at the noise. He makes himself wait until he reheats two slices of pizza and pours a glass of milk before he walks back into the living room. Finn stands and stares at the phone, lying upside down on the couch, for what feels like long enough for his pizza to cool off, but he eventually sets everything down and picks up the phone, taking a deep breath before he flips it over. _ _ _

____I saw a guy in Seattle w/ bedazzled pants. The entire pants were one big bedazzle._ _ _ _

___Finn snorts out a chuckle. He can’t decide if Kurt would be horrified or jealous._ _ _

____did u take a pic for Kurt_ _ _ _

___There’s no response right away, so Finn taps his fingers on the screen and chews on the point of the first slice while he waits._ _ _

____tried but I left the flash on and the light on the bedazzles washed it out_ _ _ _

____dammit_ _ _ _

____I know we’ll have to owe it to him_ _ _ _

___Finn takes a giant bite of pizza and frowns at the “we.” They’ve always been a we, and Finn can see them being a we probably forever, but Puck didn’t act like they were a we in his presser, and Finn’s not sure how he feels about just moving on from that._ _ _

____did u play Black Widow yet? I beat Goldfarb’s ass yesterday_ _ _ _

____yeah I won too. dumbass Plouffe wanted to be Hulk. beat him as BW_ _ _ _

____Taylor would kick ur ass if you didn’t_ _ _ _

____no kidding._ _ _ _

___Finn finishes chewing on the crust and gulps down half of his milk. It looks like a good place to stop, he figures, so he puts his phone on silent and heads for the shower. As post-fight conversations go, it could have gone worse, but Finn still has that nagging feeling in his stomach that he needs to clear the air or they’re both going to be walking this weird tightrope forever. The longer they try to be one thing when they’re together and another thing with everyone else, the harder it’s going to be. Especially when “everyone else” is getting bigger and bigger._ _ _

___The Royals and Twins don’t play each other again for two more weeks, and even that’s just a quick two-gamer before the real intra-divisional matchups start up after Labor Day.  
Finn’s still not sure if he wants to do his and Puck’s usual, or if he’ll just stay at home for the series. He thinks he knows what Puck wants, and if he’s honest with himself, he wants that, too, but he wants even more not to sway the tightrope, especially if baseball ends up the only thing standing. _ _ _

___He gives it until two days before the Twins come into town to text Puck. Part of Finn still doesn’t know what he wants to do, so he sends out a stop hitting dingers before Tuesday before he actually commits to anything._ _ _

___you wish. practicing all week to hit that slider._ _ _

___youve had 18 years to figure it out. good luck._ _ _

___sorry i missed that time you were throwing sliders in little league_ _ _

___ha ha. can i call u._ _ _

___Finn had his thumb on Puck’s number before the text comes through, so as soon as he gets the green-light he calls, pacing in his bedroom because Vazquez has his girlfriend over._ _ _

___“I don’t think we should stay together.”_ _ _

___“...the _fuck?!_ Finn!”_ _ _

___“Oh shit. Shit I mean. The hotel. Stay in a hotel together on Tuesday. We shouldn’t do that this time.”_ _ _

___“Oh.”_ _ _

___“I just. Maybe we should talk first before we sleep in the same bed. I dunno.”_ _ _

___“We’re talking now.”_ _ _

___“Puck…”_ _ _

___“Yeah yeah all right. You gotta do what you gotta do.”_ _ _

___Finn runs a hand over his face. “I’m doing this for _us_! I don’t want to fuck this up just to save my career!”_ _ _

___“God fucking dammit, Finn. I know that.” Puck sounds exhausted. “I love you, dingus. I just want to see you so we can figure this out.”_ _ _

___“Yeah,” Finn’s voice sounds small to his ears. “Me too. I’ll see you at the game?”  
Puck sighs, and there’s silence for several long moments. When he does talk again, he sounds like maybe he’s been crying, and Finn definitely doesn’t think he can keep _himself_ from crying if that’s the case. _ _ _

___“Yeah bye.”_ _ _

___“Love you too,” Finn mumbles at the black screen. Two more days._ _ _

___ _

___Midweek series are Finn’s favorite. They’re almost no one else’s favorite, because they can feel like you’re playing in quicksand, but Finn loves them because he gets a kick out of the idea of being paid to play baseball on a weekday. It’s exactly what his eight-year-old self thought would be the coolest thing in the world. Midweek games are also usually night games, unless they play one of the big-market teams who can afford to have day games on getaway days, so Finn gets to lie around his apartment in basketball shorts and nothing else, eating sandwiches and big salads with chicken and Oreos by the column, until 2pm._ _ _

___That afternoon, he accidentally fell asleep watching a Hard Knocks marathon, so he’s running late already when he runs into the clubhouse and starts to undress._ _ _

___“...likes dick…”_ _ _

___“Nah, my buddies in Minnie said he’s got a blonde chick in California or somewhere.”_ _ _

___“Well, if he does, she’s either really cool or he’s been--what? Oh shit.”_ _ _

___Finn grabs Hunter by the shoulder and spins him around. Before Hunter has a chance to react, Finn has him by the front of the jersey._ _ _

___“Want to try that again?” Finn hisses in Hunter’s face, backing him up to the lockers._ _ _

___“Shit, man, I’m not saying anything anyone don’t know. Surprised you’re okay with being seen with him all the time.”_ _ _

___Finn slams Hunter’s back into the locker partition, pinning him there with his hands still on Hunter’s jersey. Finn’s got at least five inches on Hunter, and he leans down to get right in Hunter’s face._ _ _

___“You’re going to shut your fucking little rat mouth right now, or we’re going to have an even bigger problem. I don’t want to hear that you said even one word about Puck ever again, do you hear me? It’d sure be a damn shame if you threw your back out and missed the rest of the season, wouldn’t it?” Finn slams Hunter into the partition one more time for good measure. “Are we clear?”  
Hunter nods, so Finn lets him go, stepping back when Hunter stumbles. Then Finn turns to Atwood, who’s still watching the two of them, his mouth hanging open like a fish. _ _ _

___“Hunter should really be more careful when he’s running in the clubhouse. He’s going to hurt himself.” Finn grins at Atwood and pats him on the shoulder. “See you on the field, Attie.”_ _ _

___Finn turns his back to the two of them while he finishes getting changed, but luckily, Hunter doesn’t make a peep and doesn’t seem in a hurry to tell anyone that the maybe-queer closer just slammed him into a locker. Finn eyes his phone the whole time he’s changing, as as soon as he’s done, he shoves it in his back pocket and heads for the lounge, taking the long way to avoid Sveum. Just in case._ _ _

___There’s no one in the lounge, which Finn takes a moment to thank the baseball gods (or maybe the queer gods?) for. He heads for the leather chair in the corner, next to the foosball table, and calls Puck._ _ _

___When Puck answers, he sounds flustered and confused (probably, Finn concedes, because he wasn’t expecting a call from Finn an hour before BP), but Finn just launches in before he chickens out:_ _ _

___“Iloveyoutoo. And I miss you so fucking much. And I still don’t know what we’re going to do about everything and how we’re going to solve it, but I want to stay with you tonight. Do you still want to?”_ _ _

___Finn holds his breath. The silence seems like it goes on forever, even though he knows it’s probably only five or six seconds._ _ _

___“How about the Double Tree again?” Puck asks softly._ _ _

___“Okay. Okay yeah. Text me the number. We’ll...I don’t know yet, but we’ll figure it out, I think.”_ _ _

___“We’re pretty damn good at that, you and me.”_ _ _

___********_ _ _

___“Mom, _please_ don’t make that weird tofu thing. We’re only inviting Rachel because Artie posted about this on Facebook and she wouldn’t stop texting me and Puck until we told her what was going on.” Finn leans his elbows on the counter and makes his best pouting face._ _ _

___“Oh, honey, I don’t mind!” Finn’s mom pats him on the shoulder. “How often do you get drafted?”_ _ _

___“Mom! You’re going to jinx us!” Finn’s eyes go wide and he looks for wood to knock on. “We don’t know that yet!”_ _ _

___Finn’s mom just smiles and shakes her head, rolling the tofu in bread crumbs and humming to herself. “Go take all that nervous energy and wait outside for your boyfriend. Linda told me they’re bringing brownies.”_ _ _

___Finn heads for the front door, rapping his knuckles on the doorjamb on the way outside. Maybe they shouldn’t have invited everyone, but draft weekend is also something of a reunion, since the twelve of them haven’t all been together in one room since Christmas break freshman year. Puck and his mom and Taylor pull up before Finn’s been waiting more than a few minutes, and Finn makes himself wait until the car at least comes to a stop before he runs over to kiss Puck through the window._ _ _

___“Mmm, hey! Save some brownies for the rest of us!” Finn licks frosting off his bottom lip and leans in to kiss Puck again._ _ _

___“How about we put these in your room for later and we let everyone else eat the watermelon wedges Taylor cut?”_ _ _

___“Only if we can have watermelon too,” Finn offers, licking the rest of the frosting off Puck’s upper lip._ _ _

___“Duh. We’re the guests of honor.”_ _ _

___By the time they hide the brownies and head back into the kitchen, Finn’s mom and Linda have almost all the food laid out on the table. Burt and Kurt are back with the beer and pop, too, and Burt’s transferring everything to coolers while Kurt plays on his phone at the kitchen table._ _ _

___“Hey,” Puck says, knocking on the table in front of Kurt. “What’s the deal?”_ _ _

___“The deal with what?” Kurt says, sounding bored, and doesn’t look up from his phone._ _ _

___“Is Grandpa Munster coming to this?”_ _ _

___Kurt sniffs. “No. Blaine and I aren’t together. I’m not entirely sure if he cheated on me with his ‘Oklahoma’ costar or if he just fell in love with his own talent. I suppose it doesn’t matter, really.” Kurt sighs. “I was always going to be his second choice.”_ _ _

___“Aw, man, that sucks. I’m sorry Kurt,” Finn says._ _ _

___“Oklahoma?” Puck says at the same time._ _ _

___“Yes, Puck. They were doing an all-male revival. I suspected he was sleeping with the Ado Annie character. Ado _Andy_ ,” Kurt says dryly. “And Finn, I ended up breaking up with him because of something you told me years ago.”_ _ _

___“Wait, me?”_ _ _

___“Mm hmm,” Kurt nods. “You told me that someone who cared about me wouldn’t ask me to come second to his career. I guess it finally sunk in.”_ _ _

___“Ado Andy?”_ _ _

___“Oh, cool! Hey, Puck, I give good boyfriend advice.” Finn elbows Puck in the side, grinning._ _ _

___“Does Ado Andy still sing about not being able to say no?”_ _ _

___“Yes, Puck. And yes, Finn, you do. So. Thank you.” Kurt gives Finn a small smile._ _ _

___The doorbell rings just then, and Finn hears his mom open the door and direct people into the kitchen. Mike and Tina come in first, Tina trying to pull all three of them into a hug at once, with Quinn, Sam, Mercedes, Santana, and Brittany right behind them._ _ _

___“We planned it this way,” Quinn says dryly, and gives Kurt and Finn pecks on the cheek before turning to Puck. “Are we dating this week?” she asks, and Puck pulls her into a hug against his side._ _ _

___“Thought we’d just be eligible bachelors for the draft,” he says, winking at Finn over her head._ _ _

___“We’ll look way cooler if they think we’re too awesome for girlfriends. Sorry Quinn,” Finn adds._ _ _

___“Wow. Did you boys get gayer than I remember or did your mom do this, Hudson?” Santana calls from the living room. Finn’s mom had decorated the entire room with pictures of Puck and Finn playing baseball, including what Finn recognizes as his mom’s scrapbook pages of them from high school and college. There’s an entire page dedicated to Finn’s no-hitter junior year, and one for Puck’s three-homer game in the playoffs. The rest of the room is full of baseball decorations Finn thinks she probably printed out at work and made herself. There’s even little cupcakes decorated like baseballs in baseball-printed wrappers. The whole effect is pretty impressive, Finn has to admit._ _ _

___“I thought sports was a gay chick thing, Lopez,” Puck calls back cheerfully._ _ _

___“You’re the one with pitchers and catchers.” Santana and Brittany appear back in the kitchen, and Santana cuffs Puck on the back of the head before giving him a hug._ _ _

___Brittany frowns. “But Puck plays second base.”_ _ _

___“Different kind of pitching and catching, B.” Santana grabs Brittany’s hand and some mini pie-things and heads back in the direction of the living room just as Finn hears the doorbell ring._ _ _

___“Congratulations, Mrs. Hudson-Hummel and Mrs. Puckerman. You must be so proud of Finn and Noah!” Rachel’s voice carries from the hallway a second before she comes into the kitchen and before Finn can hear either his mom or Puck’s actually answer her._ _ _

___“Hello, all!” Rachel is lugging a huge cooler behind her._ _ _

___“Did you bring….what’s in there?” Sam asks, peering around Rachel._ _ _

___“Severed heads of her competition,” Puck mutters so only Finn can hear, and Finn has to quickly hide his snort behind a napkin. Mike must hear, too, because he suddenly seems to have a coughing fit._ _ _

___“I brought vegan ice cream sandwiches for all of us!” Rachel chirps. “The cookies are sprouted-wheat, too, but they still have calories, so everyone should exercise moderation!”_ _ _

___No one answers her, and when Finn looks around, everyone’s making faces ranging from annoyed to disgusted. “That’s pretty great, Rach. My mom made you some tofu sticks and she didn’t even fry them. They’re in the living room. You should go have some.”_ _ _

___“We’ll put the cookie things away,” Puck adds, and moves to take the cooler from her._ _ _

___“Oh! Well, thank you, Noah and Finn!” Rachel heads off to the living room, most of the rest of them following her, and Puck shoves the ice cream sandwiches in the freezer, shrugging at Finn._ _ _

___“I figure this way she won’t throw a fit if we at least don’t throw them away or melt them,” Puck explains._ _ _

___“Please tell me Carole got _real_ ice cream.” Kurt follows Puck to the freezer and peers in. “Oh thank god.” _ _ _

___“There’s a cake, too, but…” Puck shrugs, and looks at Finn._ _ _

___“Yeah, we’re still not sure we’re, you know. Getting picked. So...don’t tell anyone about the cake yet.”_ _ _

___Kurt nods. Finn checks his phone. There’s a half an hour until the Red Sox are on the clock, and there’s nothing left to do until then but eat and try to keep Rachel from shoving tofu in people’s faces._ _ _

___Artie rolls in as Finn and Puck are polishing off a shared plate of pigs in a blanket, followed by Burt and Linda carrying giant trays of subs and wings. Finn jumps up to take them and set them up on the table, and within minutes, everyone except Rachel is sitting back down in the living room with full plates._ _ _

___The TV’s hooked up to the live draft coverage on MLB.com, and both Finn’s and Puck’s phones are fully charged and sitting in front of them. Because baseball is weird and, as Puck says, ‘no one gives a shit about what shortstop the Marlins draft or whatever,’ the entire thing is done by conference call, so no one gets to hug the commissioner on TV._ _ _

___Finn elbows Puck. “I still think you’d look hot in a suit on TV,” he whispers._ _ _

___“I can put on a suit for you and we can film it.” Puck grins and whispers back. Finn covers his face with both hands, and Puck chuckles. “Yeah, there it is.” He elbows Puck again, but then grabs for Puck’s hand, shoving the rest of his sub in his mouth with the other._ _ _

___“And this one is from my final performance!” Rachel’s voice cuts through the rest of the conversation. Santana and Brittany look up from where they head their heads bent next to Quinn’s and Sam stops whispering in Mercedes’s ear. Rachel holds her phone out, and a very fuzzy video of her singing something begins._ _ _

___“What show is that, Rachel?” Santana says smoothly, and out of the corner of his eye, Finn can see Kurt look up from his phone and raise an eyebrow._ _ _

___“My Fair Lady!,” Rachel answers quickly, and Santana smiles._ _ _

___“That’s funny, because I still get updates from the NYADA Facebook page. I never unliked it after I kicked Brody’s ass,” Santana turns to everyone to explain. “And I don’t remember seeing anything about My Fair Lady.”_ _ _

___“Oh, it wasn’t at NYADA.” Rachel clears her throat and looks around the room. Finn notices she purposely avoids Kurt. “I’m sure you all can understand that sometimes it’s important to branch out in order to further your career.”_ _ _

___“Why don’t you tell us about how you _branched out_ , then, Berry?” Santana smiles her fake smile at Rachel, and Rachel tugs at her skirt before setting the phone down in her lap and folding her hands over it. _ _ _

___“It was an independent group affiliated with one of Manhattan’s up-and-coming areas.”_ _ _

___“Girl, you did community theater!” Mercedes holds up her phone. “Says right here ‘the audience at St. John’s Episcopal Church especially seemed to enjoy newcomer Rachel Berry’s turn as cheeky Eliza Doolittle. It might have been Senior Night at the church, but the audience didn’t need their hearing aids to know that Miss Berry is a star.’”_ _ _

___“It’s a repertory company! It’s very exclusive! Broadway directors scout talent there!” Rachel’s voice is getting higher and higher pitched, and Puck starts cracking up, wiping at his eyes with their joined hands._ _ _

___“It’s in _Scarsdale_ ,” Mercedes says. At that, Puck starts howling with laughter, and he has to let go of Finn’s hand to grab for his beer when he chokes, which makes Finn start laughing. Everyone else either has their hands over their mouths or their face buried in pillows, except for Kurt, who’s pursing his lips at Rachel and shaking his head. Santana smiles again. _ _ _

___“Well. Congratulations,” she says simply, and turns back to her sandwich._ _ _

___Puck finally stops laughing, and wipes his eyes with his napkin. “Oh man. I thought we were going to be nervous waiting, but it’s almost time and I’ve never felt better.”_ _ _

___The parents come in at that point, and Finn turns the volume up just loud enough for him and Puck to hear._ _ _

___“Hey, Evans, I saw your shortstop went first round,” Finn calls over to Sam, who’s showing Mercedes something on his phone._ _ _

___“Supplemental, but yeah. We’re all real proud of him. Good guy, too. I think the Padres are going to like him.”_ _ _

___“Congrats, by the way, on the starting gig this year, man.” Puck tips his beer toward Sam._ _ _

___“Thanks!” Sam grins. “I’ll take a start here and there. Not bad for a walk-on. Right field at ASU’s not too shabby. Looking forward to next season.”_ _ _

___“Atta boy,” Puck grins back._ _ _

___From what Finn and Puck can figure, it looks like Finn might go fourth or fifth round and Puck sixth or seventh. Interest in Finn started picking up right around his no-hitter, and has been strongest from the Angels, White Sox, and Royals._ _ _

___Finn leans over. “Last chance. Twins or Orioles?”_ _ _

___Puck digs into his pocket and pulls out a penny. “Heads is Twins.” He flips it in the air and lets it fall on the carpet in front of him. “Twins. Final guess.”  
“I still think it’s Baltimore. Besides, then I can come have crabcakes on off days.” _ _ _

___“Don’t want to see _me_ on off days?” Puck teases, and slings an arm over Finn’s shoulders. _ _ _

___“Crabcakes first.”_ _ _

___“Okay, I’ll tell Terry Ryan that I can’t sign with them because my boyfriend likes crabcakes too much.” Puck strokes Finn’s arm with his thumb and pulls himself a little closer._ _ _

___The third round moves pretty quickly. Finn and Puck and Sam take turns answering questions from everyone else, including Kurt (“Why are some of them in high school?”) and Brittany (“Are the shortstops just short adults or are they like the Borrowers?”). They _all_ ignore Rachel, who’s taken to sulking and loudly huffing over her vegan ice cream sandwich. In the fourth round, an outfielder and a left-handed pitcher go one and two, and then the White Sox are on the clock. Finn stares at his phone, wondering if he’s going to be more startled by the ringing if he’s prepared for the call or if he’s looking away. _ _ _

___When Manfred steps to the podium, Finn exhales and looks at Puck, who shrugs and squeezes Finn’s shoulder. No Chicago, or at least not the North Side, and Finn busies himself by eating the second plate of wings that Kurt brings him and Puck, half-listening to the TV, until he looks at his draft order and realizes that Kansas City’s pick is next. Puck notices, too, and pulls his arm off Finn’s shoulders to hold his hand, instead._ _ _

___Finn’s sort of aware of Puck shushing everyone when Finn’s phone rings, and he’s mostly aware of Puck squeezing his hand really hard (or maybe he’s squeezing Puck’s), but everything else is a buzzy blur when Finn answers the phone and hears the Royals GM introducing himself on the other end._ _ _

___He’s pretty sure he thanks Mr. Moore about a hundred times, but otherwise Finn manages to get through the call without cheering in Mr. Moore’s ear or otherwise embarrassing himself. Finn doesn’t think he’s supposed to sound really smart or anything for the official draft pick call, anyway, so he figures that a lot of “yes” and “thank you” are exactly what expected of him. Then the call’s over, and Finn’s dropping the phone with shaky hands and being tackled by Puck before he knows what’s happening._ _ _

___“Fuck yes!” Puck shouts, pounding on Finn’s chest. “Fucking superstar!”_ _ _

___Finn grins and leans up, kissing Puck hard, his hands on either side of Puck’s head, until he realizes he should probably hug his mom and everyone else. He nudges Puck up, and Puck hauls himself and Finn to their feet, practically dragging Finn first over to Finn’s mom, who hugs Finn and kisses his cheek and cries, and then to the rest of glee, who mostly take turns hugging Finn or slapping him on the back. Rachel weirdly just shakes Finn’s hand and Sam kisses him loudly full on the mouth, but Finn doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about anything but baseball and Puck with his arm around Finn’s waist and his fingers digging into Finn’s side._ _ _

___When everything settles, Finn picks up the chicken wing bones he’d kicked accidentally across the room, and then Santana and Brittany give up their seats on the couch so Finn and Puck can sit down, still mostly on top of each other. They’re pretty sure that Puck still has a round and a half to wait, at least, so Puck puts his phone on high and vibrate and holds it in his hand. They listen to Artie tell everyone about the indie award his film about bees won and Quinn explain her senior thesis on a woman playwriter, Pearl Someone, who Finn thinks sounds really badass._ _ _

___Kurt’s been quiet all afternoon, and Puck and Finn seem to notice at the same time, because Puck nudges Finn and nods to Kurt right as Finn’s been frowning at Kurt’s disappearing act into the recliner with his phone._ _ _

___“Hey, Kurt,” Finn calls over to him, and has to say his name three more times before Kurt looks up. “How’d your meeting with that agent guy go? Man, I feel like I haven’t talked to you since your graduation.”_ _ _

___Kurt looks over at Rachel and then unfolds himself from the chair and tiptoes over to Finn and Puck. He gestures for them to lean in close._ _ _

___“I got a part,” he says, and it sounds like he’s trying to keep his voice calm. “It’s not on Broadway or anything but it’s close--closer than I’ve ever been--and it’s a _big_ role.”_ _ _

___“Kurt!” Finn says, probably louder than he means to, and Kurt makes a face at him. “Kurt,” Finn says slightly quieter, “that’s awesome! You’re going to be so famous!”_ _ _

___“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” Puck asks._ _ _

___Kurt raises an eyebrow. “I wanted to wait until after the draft so I could have-- so I didn’t steal your thunder, and besides,” Kurt continues, “you saw what happened with…” he cocks his head toward Rachel. “I wanted to wait until we were both back in the city before I told her so I’d have more places to hide.”_ _ _

___“Oh yeah,” Finn agrees, and he can see Puck nodding out of the corner of his eye. “Well, congratulations, man. Let’s go out to dinner before we all go to...wherever we’re going.” He looks at Puck, who shrugs. “Our treat.”_ _ _

___“Thanks.” Kurt actually smiles this time. “I’m actually really excited, despite appearances to the contrary.”_ _ _

___Linda comes over then, to ask Puck when he thinks he’s going to get drafted because Taylor has a soccer game in the morning, and Kurt excuses himself to go back to his chair. Finn glances at the TV. The seventh round is about to start, which Puck explains to his mom, who sits back down with Taylor. Finn catches Taylor’s eye and she grins and him and rolls her eyes, gesturing to the red Solo cup Finn had seen her pouring just a little bit of vodka into._ _ _

___The Red Sox take their turn in the seventh, and both Puck and Finn exhale loudly when Puck’s phone doesn’t ring. Puck had really come into his own their senior year, batting .415 with power, and he’d gotten late interest but a decent amount of it. Now that it looks like Finn’s going to Kansas City, their best-case scenario would be the Twins, who sent scouts out three times to watch Puck in his final season, or the Reds, who seemed to really like Puck’s swing._ _ _

___“Is this it?” Quinn asks softly from the other side of Puck, and Finn nods._ _ _

___“Probably.” He checks his phone. “It might be one of the next two.”_ _ _

___Quinn nods and passes the message along, so by the time the Pirates announce their pick, the room’s almost completely silent. Puck grips his phone and rests it on his bouncing knee, and when Minnesota clocks in, Finn counts down from 30._ _ _

___Before he can reach “15,” Puck’s phone buzzes in his hand, and they both jump. Puck’s voice is shakier than Finn expected, so he puts his hand on Puck’s knee and squeezes until Puck seems to calm down a little. Puck goes through the same routine of “yeses” and “thank yous” that Finn did, and at one point, Ryan must make a joke, because Puck chuckles and gives a “won’t know until I get there.”_ _ _

___When Puck hangs up, the room erupts in cheers, that Finn’s pleased to hear are even louder than the ones he got. Finn can’t really tackle Puck, since they’re still mostly draped on top of each other, but he grabs Puck and kisses him even harder than he did for his own pick. Puck squeezes him back, and when he pulls away, he whispers into Finn’s ear, “You and me. We got this.”_ _ _

___Finn takes all his limbs back so Puck can get up and make the rounds. Linda’s crying more than Finn’s mom did, and she holds Puck for longer, too. Taylor looks like she’s pretending to be embarrassed about her mom, but Finn sees her wipe her eyes, too, before she lets Puck wrap her up in a big hug._ _ _

___Puck gets the same loud smooch from Sam that Finn got, and an ass smack from Santana that makes Brittany giggle, and after everyone finishes congratulating both of them, the party starts to break up, Rachel lugging her cooler of uneaten ice cream behind her. Linda and Taylor head home and Carole and Burt disappear somewhere, and by the time the food’s put away, Puck and Finn are alone in the living room with the half-falling banners and their hidden brownies._ _ _

___“We’re, like, _ballplayers_ now.” Finn shoves his entire brownie in his mouth._ _ _

___“When does it feel real?” Puck asks, chewing on his brownie a little more slowly than Finn. “Do you think we’ll wake up one day and feel like we’re legit?”_ _ _

___“I kind of maybe hope not,” Finn shrugs. “I bet it’s cool to feel like we’re in a dream most of the time. Bet we’ll appreciate it more that way.”_ _ _

___Puck finishes his brownie and reaches for another one. “Yeah, I bet you’re right. But man. Real drafted ballplayers. You and me.”_ _ _

___“Yep.” Finn licks frosting off his thumb. “How the hell’d we get so lucky?”_ _ _

___*********_ _ _

___Despite what Finn said and how optimistic he’d felt on the phone with Puck, as the time to meet up gets closer and closer, the ball in his stomach comes back with a vengeance. Hunter hasn’t said a word around Finn since the confrontation, but Finn can feel people’s eyes on him every time he’s in the clubhouse, and between that and a nasty collision with Puck’s teammate at first base in the ninth, the anger and hurt Finn originally felt is back at full strength when he leaves the ballpark and heads for the hotel._ _ _

___The sun’s already setting by the time Finn gets to the room; the heavy August night an unfriendly reminder of the waning summer. Puck left the door cracked, so Finn just slips in, shouldering his bag off just inside the door. He leans back against the door to shut it, and the sound of the latch makes him jump. His hands are already clenching into fists when he walks past the closet, where the room opens up, and steps in front of the bed._ _ _

___Puck’s sitting back against the headboard, his legs crossed in front of him and his body hunched forward. He looks up after Finn’s been standing there for what feels like a very long few minutes, and Finn can see that his eyes are red. Finn can’t quite bring himself to sit down next to Puck, though he starts forward, like he wants to. Puck startles at Finn’s movement and his eyes look wild, like how Finn’s cat used to look when he was cornered._ _ _

___“I don’t know what to say,” Finn says, simply, and it’s the truth. He doesn’t know what to say. None of it feels even remotely right. Not the fight or the long walk to the hotel or Puck’s face right now. Everything hurts, and not just because of the collision._ _ _

___“‘m sorry.” Puck shifts his eyes away from Finn, and Finn can see from the headboard lamp how wet they are._ _ _

___“Yeah…” It sounds hoarse to Finn’s ears, and he walks over to the window. Minneapolis is all lit up, and Finn can see groups of girls in skirts and heels walking down the sidewalk, toward where all the restaurants are. There’s a guy walking a big dog, too. The dog looks like he knows exactly where he’s going, and sure enough, within a few seconds, a woman appears in Finn’s view. The dog jumps on her and she pets him before kissing the man and taking his hand. Finn’s eyes are burning before he realizes it, and he turns back toward the room._ _ _

___“I can go,” Puck says quietly, and starts to get up. Finn waves him away with an arm that feels heavy._ _ _

___“Nah, we should--” he has no idea how to tell Puck everything he’s feeling. ‘Nah, we should stay in this room and the rest of the world can go fuck itself’ seems too simple. “Nah, we shouldn’t start running away now,” he settles on, and Puck nods, at least, and seems to relax back against the bed._ _ _

___“You kind of flipped out on me, dude,” Puck says, after a moment._ _ _

___“Yeah, I know. I did.” Finn sits carefully on the edge of the bed opposite Puck. “We just didn’t even _talk_ about it.” _ _ _

___“Don’t you think I know that?” Puck sits up straighter, and pulls his legs up under him. “I made a _mistake_ Finn, okay? But I’m just so fucking _proud_ of you that I couldn’t help it.”_ _ _

___“Well _try_ , okay? Have some self-control for once in your life!” _ _ _

___Puck pulls back like Finn had hit him, but then his eyes narrow. “Fuck. You.”_ _ _

___“Yeah, you’d like that, huh? Maybe out on the field? Or in front of the press? Or did you want me to walk into your dugout during a game and get on my knees? That’s probably more your speed.” The words are tumbling out before Finn can stop them, and he’s on his feet even faster._ _ _

___“You fucking piece of shit,” Finn barely has a chance to see Puck’s nostrils flare and his eyes flash before he’s up and shoving Finn, hard. Finn takes a step back but rights himself in time to take Puck’s fist right in his stomach. This time, he stumbles, and he grabs Puck’s collar on the way down, dragging them both to the floor, the hotel carpet scraping Finn’s forearm where he lands._ _ _

___“And you’re not?” Finn wheezes, and hauls his upper body up enough to take a swing at Puck’s jaw. Puck turns his head at the last instant, and Finn’s fist just clips Puck’s chin, sending Finn flat on his stomach as Puck scrambles up from under him._ _ _

___“I,” Puck pants, “fucked up because I _love you_ you stupid asshole!” Finn turns onto his back in time to see Puck wiping his eyes. “I don’t say shit just to hurt you!” _ _ _

___Finn’s chest heaves, but his pulls himself up, stumbling when he stands. “Could’ve fooled me,” he mutters, mostly to himself but obviously not quietly enough, because before he realizes what’s happening, Puck’s shoving him again._ _ _

___“Yeah?! Name _one time_ I said something to hurt you. Once!” _ _ _

___Finn take a minute to catch his breath, but that’s the fucking worst part of everything. Puck has never tried to hurt him. Not once. Not even when Beth happened. And Finn’s always just been terrified of letting down everyone else _but_ him, because Puck’s just always _been there_. It’s not fair. None of it’s fair, least of all that they’re living their childhood dreams and they can barely manage to keep themselves together. _ _ _

___Finn sags, and puts his hands on his bent knees. “Didn’t. You didn’t. Ever. Shit.” After a moment, he can hear Puck sink down onto the bed._ _ _

___“What’re we doing?” Puck asks quietly, “This isn’t what we promised ourselves.”_ _ _

___“No,” Finn straightens up. “No. No it sure fucking isn’t.” He strides into the bathroom and slams the door. “FUCK!” His head is starting to spin, and his throat feels thick, and everything’s a little hazy around the edges. Before he realizes what he’s doing, he’s grabbed a glass from the sink and hurled it into the shower. It makes a satisfying shattering noise, and Finn screams one more time before sinking to the bathroom floor and covering his head with his hands.  
Finn doesn’t know how long he sits there, but he knows that Puck’s been banging on the door a while when he finally decides to crawl over to the shower stall and peer in. The shards of glass scattered across the shower floor have got to be one of the fucking saddest things Finn’s ever seen, and he reaches in to go about cleaning them up. _ _ _

___He sees the blood dripping down his wrist before he feels anything, but once he realizes what’s happened, the pain is sharp and burning, like he’s been stabbed all over his hand. He hauls himself up and unlocks the door, and Puck comes barrelling in, like he’d been leaning against the door the entire time._ _ _

___“Shit. Oh, shit, Finn, what the fuck did you do?” Puck looks between Finn and the shower and winces. “Oh man, c’mere.” He takes Finn by the wrist and guides him over to the sink, turning both taps on. Finn sucks in air through his teeth when the warm water hits the cuts, but he watches as the blood runs down the drain, Puck carefully using a towel to rinse the worst of it away. “Your pitching hand, Finn, shit,” Puck frowns, and puts some soap on the towel._ _ _

___They’re both silent while Puck washes and dries Finn’s hand clean, and even after Puck carefully applies Neosporin and Band-aids from Finn’s blister kit. When Puck’s done, he squeezes Finn’s left hand and leans up, almost hesitantly. Finn meets him halfway, and if he feels a little bit like a nervous teenager again when they kiss, well, no one has to know. He can feel Puck suck in a breath against his mouth, and he carefully backs Puck up against the sink, deepening the kiss with his good hand on the back of Puck’s head. His hand is throbbing, but it feels too good to stop, and soon he’s grinding his hard cock against Puck’s hip, bracing himself carefully against the sink with his hand behind Puck._ _ _

___Puck breaks the kiss to tip his head back with a moan, and Finn swoops in, licking up Puck’s neck before sinking his teeth in gently. He sucks hard on the skin under his mouth, and draws patterns with his tongue, reveling in the feel of Puck’s body straining under his and the sharp shock of Puck’s nails between his shoulder blades. He’s sure he’s leaving a mark, but he doesn’t care. They’ll figure something out later. Right now it’s him and Puck and the feel of their bodies slotting together and how they need to get out of their clothes right away before they explode._ _ _

___“I’m taking you to bed,” he breathes in Puck’s ear, and he barely registers Puck nodding before he’s dragging Puck out of the bathroom and onto the bed. They both fumble with their clothes for a moment, Finn getting himself twisted up in his t-shirt at one point, and Puck nearly losing an eye from a flinging belt buckle, but eventually they’re naked and kissing again, this time less rushed, almost languid. Finn runs his good hand up and down Puck’s back, drumming his fingertips along Puck’s ribs, and smirking against Puck’s mouth when he squirms. He slides his hand down to Puck’s ass as they keep kissing, and gently ghosts his fingers between Puck’s cheeks, running them along and around his hole until Puck’s bucking and straining against Finn’s body._ _ _

___“Fucker,” Puck gasps, “Tryin’ ta kill me. Knew it all along.” He buries his head in Finn’s neck and cants his hips up._ _ _

___Finn chuckles and pulls his hand back up, nudging his fingers up against Puck’s mouth, where it’s still huffing breath against Finn’s neck. “Open up.”_ _ _

___Puck turns his head and flicks his tongue out, wetting Finn’s first two fingers before sucking on them rhythmically. Finn bites back a moan at the suggestion of Puck’s slick tongue sliding up and down his fingers, and he pulls them out of Puck’s mouth gently, replacing them immediately with his own mouth. He kisses Puck deeply, moaning against Puck’s mouth and gripping the back of Puck’s neck with the good fingers of his left hand. Puck bucks against him, and Finn can feel him hot and hard against his thigh. He pulls back just far enough to murmur against Puck’s mouth, nipping at Puck’s bottom lip in between words._ _ _

___“I’m going to fuck you with my fingers, now, the ones you made all slick and ready for you. Do you want that? Want me working you open slowly so you can just slide down on my cock?”_ _ _

___Puck shudders and bows his head so he’s speaking against Finn’s neck. “Fuck, yes. Fuck.”_ _ _

___Finn nudges his fingertips against Puck’s hole and presses in, feeling Puck’s body give around them. Puck grinds his hips down as Finn’s fingers sink farther inside him, and he makes a satisfied noise against Finn’s neck when Finn’s in as a far as he can go, the sound vibrating through Finn’s chest and giving him chills. He starts fucking Puck slowly, enjoying the smooth heat around his fingers and the way Puck’s body is grinding and arching against his. He wraps his other arm around Puck’s waist to hold him as still as he can, and then he moves his fingers faster, feeling Puck open up and relax around them._ _ _

___“Do you think you’re ready to really get fucked?” Finn drags his nails of his other hand up Puck’s spine as he slams his fingers especially hard inside him. Puck fucks his hips forward, dragging his cock along Finn’s thigh, and Finn bites back a moan at the feeling of Puck clenching around his fingers when he does._ _ _

___“Yeah. Finn…” Puck pleads._ _ _

___“Get the lube,” Finn instructs, and slides his fingers out of Puck very slowly so Puck can roll over and grab the lube from where he apparently stashed it in the bedside table. Finn’s a little taken aback at Puck’s assumption, but he’s also touched to know that Puck was looking for reconciliation, too._ _ _

___Puck scrambles back, lube in hand, and Finn takes it from him, pouring some in his hand and slicking himself up, Puck watching as he does. When Finn’s done, he reaches up and runs his clean hand through Puck’s hair and down the side of his head, stroking Puck’s temple with his thumb._ _ _

___“Will you fuck yourself on me tonight? Just like this?”_ _ _

___Puck nods and straddles Finn’s hips, lifting up enough to line himself up with Finn’s cock and sinks down until their hips meet._ _ _

___“Fuck. So good.” Puck tips his head back and sighs. “Miss this all the time. Miss you all the time,” he adds, and looks back down to meet Finn’s gaze._ _ _

___“I’m sorry.” Finn grips Puck’s hips and rides out the rise and fall with him as Puck starts to slowly lift himself up and slide back down. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Puck shakes his head and deliberately fucks himself faster, barely rising up before slamming back down again, his movements more of a grinding than anything else, as he squeezes around Finn on a pulse each time he brings Finn deeper inside him._ _ _

___“Come on. Come on.” Puck’s shakes his head again, and he seems like he’s almost talking to himself. “I’m sorry too. So sorry. Please?” He wraps his hand around his own cock and starts stroking fast, all of his movements getting erratic at once. Finn holds Puck’s hips tighter and guides them back into a rhythm, feeling Puck milking Finn closer and closer as his hand flies over his own cock._ _ _

___“Yeah. Yeah let’s come.” Finn nods, and arches up to meet Puck’s movements, trying to keep looking at Puck’s face as he feels himself on the edge. Puck groans, and that’s all the warning Finn gets before Puck’s coming all over Finn’s chest, the grip around Finn’s cock finishing him off as he comes deep inside Puck, digging his fingertips into Puck’s hips hard on a reflex as he does._ _ _

___They’re quiet for several long minutes, the sound of them catching their breath the only noise in the room. Finn’s acutely aware that his hand’s throbbing, but he doesn’t want to move, and he waits until Puck lifts himself up and lies down along Finn’s side before he chances peeking at the bandages._ _ _

___“We’re really fucking good at that.”_ _ _

___Finn snorts out a laugh and kisses Puck on the top of the head. They _are_ really good at that. They’re really good at most of the things other people suck at, and they _were_ really good at this baseball-relationship thing until now. _ _ _

___“I was really dumb, Puck,” Finn says softly, and he’s not sure if Puck hears him at first, because Puck doesn’t answer or even move._ _ _

___“I’d pick this, you know,” Puck says, and Finn realizes Puck’s crying._ _ _

___“Me too. I don’t care if that’s the wrong answer.” He pulls Puck closer, and Puck slides his leg over Finn’s, angling himself so he can throw his arm across Finn’s chest._ _ _

___“We don’t have to decide anything tonight,” Puck mumbles, and kisses Finn softly on his chest._ _ _

___Finn shakes his head. “We’ll just get through this series and maybe some answer will just show up or something before September.”_ _ _

___“Baseball God,” Puck nods. “A divine queer apparition. ‘You are my queer baseball-playing people. Go forth, and come out to the world. Or don’t.’ I don’t know what Baseball God’s going to say yet.”_ _ _

___“Maybe something will show up in my food again. Like Grilled Cheesus only in my Power Bar. Energy Jesus.”_ _ _

___“Nacho Jesus.” Puck starts laughing. “Not your Jesus!” At that, Puck completely loses it, and he slaps Finn’s chest as he cracks up, laughing until he runs out of breath. “Not your Jesus,” he says again, and groans. “Man, I’m funny.”_ _ _

___“Oh, no, Puck! What if I get someone _else’s_ Jesus, then, and he’s supposed to be visiting some little girl who wants a pony?”_ _ _

___“I think that’s Santa’s jurisdiction, but you could probably just text Jesus the iMaps directions or something.” Puck looks up at Finn and grins. “I love you.”_ _ _

___“I love you, too.” Finn kisses him. “So we’ll wait for Baseball God or Energy Jesus or for both of us to get really smart by September.”_ _ _

___Puck nods. “In the meantime, no more broken glass.” He picks up Finn’s hand where it was curled around Puck’s bicep, and kisses his fingers. “Stick to kicking chairs. They don’t usually bite back.”_ _ _

___********_ _ _

____Friday, February 17, 2017__ _ _

_______Dude why don't they tell you it's freezing in Fl in Feb?_  
Oh that's funny. It's warm here. Sucks to be u.  
**I hope you get eaten by a coyote.**

_______That was so cool. Just had a major league manager tell me my slider looked good._  
**It does look good. It always looks good.**  
Yeah but he's the ROYALS MANAGER Puck.  
**lol just means he's seeing what we all knew. You the tallest one there?**  
Lefty from USC got me beat by a couple inches. But they didn't say anything about HIS slider.  
**Does he throw a slider?**  
If he did they wouldn't have said anything about it. 

_______That Diners & Dives dude is a douchebag._  
Why does he wear those sunglasses on the back of his head. What channel?  
**Because he's a douchebag. 54 here but it's probably different there.**  
Oh yeah. I think my brain's fried from the sun.  
**Brag brag brag.**  
**Miss you.**  
Yeah me too.  
I mean I miss u too.  
How many days?  
**47 now. I bet it'll go fast once games start.**  
Yeah maybe. Probably.  
So what's the douchebag making? 

____Monday, February 20, 2017_ _ _ _

_______The full squad workouts are NO JOKE Finn._  
Oh look who finally got a taste of spring training!  
**Oh I'm sorry. Did you strain a pinky finger doing PFP?**  
I see how it is. Dont come crying to me when I'm famous and u want my autograph. I think my pinky's too sore.  
**Maybe I should show you what finger's sore right now.**

_______Did u know u can get a sunburn in February?_  
**You're in Az. I think you can get a sunburn all year there.  
** How bad is it?  
Worse than that time in Miami but not as bad as that summer we thought sunscreen was for losers.  
**YOU thought it was for losers. I just don't burn.**  
Yeah yeah.  
I love u.  
**Me too. 44 days.**

____ _ _

____Monday, February 27, 2017_ _ _ _

____ _ _

_______There are cameras EVERYWHERE Puck! A guy from ESPN just asked me how I liked camp._  
**Did you tell him it's not as good as Camp Wyandot when we were 9?**  
Nah that'll be our secret.  
U playing today?  
**Skip said I'll get third string. You gonna watch?**  
Yeah I'll be on the bus by then so I can.  
U wearing it?  
**Yeah. You?**  
Yep. Under my uni.  
**Hey Finn?  
** We're gonna be okay right?  
Dude don't even worry about the cameras. I think the ESPN guy was maybe drunk anyway.  
**Yeah. Yeah okay.  
I won't. **

____ _ _

____Saturday, March 4, 2017_ _ _ _

____ _ _

_______Fuck! I suck!_  
Ump was garbage.  
**No excuse for golden sombrero**  
U got this. I promise.  
90s Legends tonight?  
**Yeah, but I get to be Griffey.**  
You suck.  
**Well yeah. ;)  
32 days.**

____ _ _

____Tuesday, March 14, 2017_ _ _ _

____ _ _

________**I learned how to wittle  
** Oh the phone says it’s whittle  
Really? Like wood? Kickass  
**Yeah, I’m making a duck for Taylor**  
Are ducks the new thing? Man we’re old  
**Nah it’s just the only thing I can make so far**

____ _ _

_______Shit Puck shit_  
I’m starting today  
**Fuck yeah! Howd that happen?**  
Gee’s doing a sim game. Split today so I gotta go to Bradenton but fuck I’m doing it!  
**Gonna be the king of that city. Trust me.**  
Of Bradenton? Thats probably not hard.  
**Dingus**

____ _ _

____**Call me pls now** _ _ _ _

____ _ _

_______I looked up stuff on Rochester._  
Looks like u might like it.  
People on their facebook are saying nice things  
They have something called a garbage plate  
Puck?  
:( 

________**Sorry. I love you. This just sucks and I miss you  
** Thought this was our year  
You’re probably asleep cause it’s 4 there.  
love you again.  
22 days. 

____ _ _

____Saturday, March 25, 2017_ _ _ _

____ _ _

_______I WAS SO FUCKING CLOSE FUCK!_  
**I know**  
Said it was down to me and Sorie.  
**Why? They give him a senior discount?  
** Does his AARP card cover games?  
Did he like the early bird bbq in kc?  
something about medicare…..  
I’m tapped out  
Will u call me and tell me old people jokes every day when I’m in Omaha  
**Sure but you won’t be there long**  
Guess it’s South Bend after all. 24 hours with u isn’t nothing  
**Yep let’s book it now.**

____ _ _

_______My mom got me upgraded on the flights. Guess I can sit in the exit row now._  
**Either that or someone gets your legs on their back**  
u don’t complain  
**If youre doing THAT on a plane I don’t think leg room is your biggest problem anymore**

____ _ _

_______Got a Red Wings shirt_  
**no you didn’t**  
Yup so even though we know you’ll only be there a couple weeks I’ll be able to wear it under my undershirt during games.  
**Dude**  
You and me Puck  
**You and me and South Bend.**

___ _

___********_ _ _

___Getting to start September in the majors is something Finn doesn’t think he’ll ever get over. He texts Puck first thing in the morning on September first, just ‘Holy hell!’ and a string of smiley and poop emojis, just because._ _ _

___Finn feels really really good, now--better than he’s felt all season. He’s not sure if it’s just the thrill of the pennant race or the fact that things with Puck are awesome, but his strikeout rates are up and his walks are down and he hasn’t-- well, Finn doesn’t want to jinx himself, but the guys are starting to rub his head for good luck. If they can reach that high._ _ _

___The weather in KC is finally starting to cool down enough so that Finn can go outside in the morning. His neighborhood isn’t great, but there’s a park nearby, and Finn’s been going for runs as soon as he wakes up, before he’s awake enough to talk himself out of it. September first is one of those mornings, and Finn’s changed and on the running path before he’d usually be eating breakfast._ _ _

___The creepy old dude who jogs in neon orange shorts and nothing else isn’t out today, and Finn mentally thanks the running gods for small favors. He vaguely remembers a few September morning in KC from the week he spent here last season, but even when he tries his hardest, Finn can’t remember a morning as awesome as this. There’s a breeze that’s just strong enough to cool Finn off as he runs, so even the running part feels amazing, Finn’s strides nice and smooth and his breathing regulated. He passes a couple people in Royals hats on the path, and they seem to notice Finn just as he runs by, because he overhears one of them say “hey!” and the other one mention something about a streak. Finn chuckles, hearing it, and catches a second wind for the last part of his run._ _ _

___He’s on his cooldown when his phone rings, and he almost doesn’t answer it, but the caller ID makes him slide the call on so fast he almost drops it. It’s Kurt, who only ever calls when there’s an emergency or if he’s dating an athlete and wants advice on gifts. Sometimes those are the same thing, Finn has to admit._ _ _

___“Is Mom okay?”_ _ _

___“What? Oh goodness, Finn, yes, she’s fine. Everyone’s fine. Are you busy? I have some news!”_ _ _

___“No, no.” Finn heads back to his apartment, stopping at a curb to stretch his calves. “Go ahead. What’s up?”_ _ _

___“I got….are you ready? Gabe! I got Gabe!”_ _ _

___“Uhhh.” Finn can never remember Kurt’s ex-boyfriends, and he doesn’t know if that’s an actual good thing or Kurt just thinks it is. “That’s awesome, Kurt! You sound really happy.”_ _ _

___“It’s a dream come true, Finn! This is supposed to be the hottest revival to hit Broadway in _decades_.” _ _ _

___“Oh! Wait, who’s Gabe? Is he in it, too?”_ _ _

___“Finn, _I’m_ Gabe! Oh, I’m a mess. I’m playing the lead in a revival of this show called _Next to Normal_ from, like, eight years ago. The _lead_ , Finn! Broadway and the lead! And it’s the _Aaron Tveit_ role. Aaron Tveit, Finn!” _ _ _

___“Hey, that’s awesome, Kurt! I’m real happy for you. Did you tell Mom and Burt yet?”_ _ _

___“Not yet! Listen, I have another surprise for you.”_ _ _

___“I’m real flattered, Kurt, but I don’t have time to play ball _and_ be in your Broadway show.” Finn grins and heads up the walkway to his apartment. _ _ _

___“Very funny, Finn. No, guess who’s on a plane headed for Kansas City _right now_?!”_ _ _

___Finn frowns. Puck has a day off, but he’d told Finn he needed to put some cage time in so he didn’t lose playing time to a call-up._ _ _

___“I’m afraid to guess.” He lets himself in and starts stripping as he walks, tossing his dirty clothes in the corner of his room. Vasquez said he was just going to see Finn at the park, so Finn takes the opportunity to lean against the counter and eat an apple naked._ _ _

___“Puck!”_ _ _

___“What? But he’s in the cage today.” Finn swallows the quarter of an apple he’d bitten off at once._ _ _

___“Is that a-- Never mind. I don’t want to know. But he’s definitely on a plane. I got you two a room at…” It sounds like Kurt’s fumbling with something on his phone. “The Raphael.”_ _ _

___“Oh shit, Kurt, really? Oh, man, thank you! That’s supposed to be _fancy_!” _ _ _

___“Yes, well. I was excited and wanted to share the happiness. You can pay me back by introducing me to some of your teammates next year.” Finn can practically hear Kurt winking. He chuckles._ _ _

___“Yeah, we’ll see about that. But Kurt, this is _so cool_!”_ _ _

___“Glad you think so.” Kurt sounds amused. “Be at the airport at 1:30. Now I’m off to call everyone else on my list before I drop the big announcement on Facebook. Love you, brother.”_ _ _

___“Love you too.”_ _ _

___Finn tosses the rest of the apple in the garbage and showers and changes, still with the grin on his face. It’s after noon before he realizes he should get Puck a ticket for the game, so he calls Dave from the ticket office to get something reserved in the back of field level. They can explain away a lot of things, but Puck sitting in the family section behind home plate on his off day is territory they’re not ready to breach._ _ _

___There is what Finn thinks is an unnecessary amount of traffic from his apartment to the airport, so he’s cutting it close when he runs from the lot to the terminal. It’s just quick enough, though, and Finn sees Puck’s mohawk peeking out behind an old woman and a family with a baby just a minute after he gets there._ _ _

___Puck’s grin is more than enough to make up for Finn’s mad rush there, and Finn barely restrains himself from pulling Puck into a hug and kiss right in the middle of the terminal, old woman and all. He manages to stop himself in time, though, and they grin at each other all the way back to car._ _ _

___“So Kurt, huh?” Finn reaches for Puck’s hand as soon as they’re on the highway._ _ _

___“Right? He woke me up with a phone call, just said ‘pack a bag and get on the 11:10 Southwest flight to Kansas City’, and hung up. I got a follow-up text five minutes later saying, ‘I got Gabe’.” Puck frowns. “Which one was Gabe? The one with the tiny dog or the rugby player?”_ _ _

___Finn laughs. “I know! I thought Gabe was some ex-dude, too, but it’s this big Broadway role he just got. Apparently he called you before he did anything else.” Finn shakes his head. “Can’t figure him out sometimes.”_ _ _

___“Can’t say I’m complaining, though.” Puck slouches down in his seat and flings an arm over his head. “Not gonna turn down an excuse to you see.”_ _ _

___“Or that fancy hotel Kurt got us.”_ _ _

___“Yeah, I’m not going to turn down an excuse to break in a bed, either.”_ _ _

___ _

___Despite the perfect morning weather, it’s raining in that gross drizzling way the Midwest gets by the time the game starts. By the seventh inning, Finn’s in the dugout in his team-issued windbreaker, trying to keep his arm loose in the damp weather. The Tigers have kept it close all game, but the Royals bullpen’s held it together, and Finn’s all but positive he’s going to be pitching the ninth, so he heads into the back of the bullpen every couple outs or so to stay warm and do some windmills. Even with the shitty weather, Finn still feels awesome, and he’s grinning so much the other guys are starting to look at him funny._ _ _

___The Royals are up by one heading into the ninth, so Finn finishes getting loose and jogs out to the mound, listening for the familiar sounds of Alice Cooper over the crowd. White’s already pounding his mitt when Finn starts his twelve warmup pitches, and gives Finn an “atta boy” when he’s done. Finn can’t remember the last time he had so much energy, and he chances a glance over to where Puck’s sitting before the leadoff man steps to the plate, exhaling when he catches sight of him exactly where he’s supposed to be and eating a giant pretzel._ _ _

___The four-seamer felt good in warm-ups, so Finn starts the first batter off with three in a row, two strikes and a narrow miss on the third that Finn throws his hands up at the ump over. On the fourth pitch, Finn pulls the string, and the 78-mph changeup sails right over the swinging bat._ _ _

___Cheers erupt, and if Finn wasn’t sure how far away Puck was sitting, he’d swear he hears Puck’s sharp whistle._ _ _

___“One down. Get ‘em Huddy!” Vazquez hollers from first base, and Finn tugs the neck of his jersey forward so he can go into the stretch._ _ _

___The next batter sends Finn’s first pitch harmlessly to right field, where Attie puts it away, and Finn takes a celebratory lap around the mound._ _ _

___It’s raining harder now, so Finn calls time and smooths out the divot on the mound before digging his spikes clean. Miggy’s up, and he’s already had three extra-base hits tonight, but he can’t hit Finn’s slider and they both know it. White calls for it down and in, and Finn smirks. As imposing as Miggy seems at the plate, double Triple Crown winner and all, Finn’s feeling invincible tonight, and Miguel fucking Cabrera won’t be able to change that._ _ _

___Sure enough, Finn’s first pitch is a sharp slider with enough bite to almost hit Cabrera on the knee, but Miggy swings over it anyway. Finn grins to himself when the smattering of cheers dies down and he hears a whistle that’s _definitely_ Puck. White doesn’t bother calling for the slider this time. He just pounds his glove again and waits for Finn to come set so he can snap into position. Finn exhales and makes a big show of fiddling with his necklace and cracking his neck before lifting his leg and powering his entire body toward home plate. _ _ _

___He’s on the ground a split-second later, flat on his back with a searing pain at the back of his thigh. Finn knows he must have slipped on the muddy divot, but he can’t really focus on anything besides the pain in his hammy and whether or not that last pitch was a strike. He gets to his hands and knees, sucking in air at the movement, and realizes he must have gotten the wind knocked out of him, too. Vazquez and Goldfarb must have run over from the right side of the infield as soon as the play was dead, because they’re on either side of Finn before Finn can attempt to stand._ _ _

___“Venga aqui!” Vazquez whistles for Pete, who jogs over and kneels in front of Finn. It’s the first time Finn’s been injured on the field like this since freshman year of high school, so it takes him by surprise when the entire infield and White crowd around him while Pete’s checking his leg._ _ _

___“What’d Miggy do?” Finn asks, and winces when Pete bends Finn’s left leg up toward his chest._ _ _

___“Popped up to third.” White’s smirking. “We got your back, Huddy. Perfect streak’s intact.”_ _ _

___Pete signals for White to take Finn’s right side, and the two of them help Finn stand. Finn tests out the hammy, and he can put some weight on it, but there’s no way he’d be able to pitch even if he had to. He waves off additional help and tips his cap to the crowd when they cheer. Finn’s not sure if they’re cheering the win or his pitiful eventual hobble back to the dugout, but he attempts a grin anyway and signals to Puck’s section before he heads into the tunnel, cursing his luck all the way down._ _ _

___ _

____shit shit shit what did you do are you okay_ _ _ _

___Finn runs his hand over his face. Fuck. Puck’s probably way more worried than Finn is, even, and it’s not like either of them can get Puck into the clubhouse._ _ _

____hammy. Pete thinks maybe grade 2 but MRI tomorrow. definitely done for the season tho_ _ _ _

____oh fuck that sucks so bad_ _ _ _

___i know. figure i can pick the streak back up in april anyway. wish u were here_ _ _

___He rolls up his t-shirt so Pete can give him an injection of painkillers._ _ _

____me too. think i can sneak in in some KC gear?_ _ _ _

____probably if u cover ur entire head_ _ _ _

___He grins at the image even as he types it: Puck walking through the clubhouse with a towel on his head like some kind of ghost of baseball past._ _ _

____neither of us would like that. are you with pete now?_ _ _ _

____yeah getting it wrapped._ _ _ _

____i’ll pull the car up. love you._ _ _ _

____even with my bum leg?_ Finn makes a pouting face even though Puck can’t see it, and he wonders for a minute what Pete thinks before he realizes Pete’s probably seen and heard things he wishes he could scrub from his brain._ _ _

____i’ll make the sacrifice somehow._ _ _ _

___ _

___The ride to the hotel is blissfully smooth and the hotel bedding is blissfully soft when Finn lies down on it, fully clothed, as soon as they walk in the room. The night’s a far cry from Finn’s awesome morning and afternoon, but he’s so grateful Puck’s there that almost nothing else matters._ _ _

___Almost. Shit._ _ _

___“Hey,” Finn says quietly, tugging on Puck’s hand. “Come lie down.”_ _ _

___“You sure? I was going to see if they had heating pads at the front desk.”_ _ _

___“Yeah, I’m sure. C’mere.”_ _ _

___Puck eases himself onto the bed and lies on his side along Finn’s side, propping his head up on his hand. He slides his hand under Finn’s shirt and runs his fingers along Finn’s ribs, giving Finn goosebumps all up and down his sides._ _ _

___“Remember our first time?” Puck asks, bringing his hand around to trace Finn’s belly button. “Remember how that felt?”_ _ _

___Finn closes his eyes. Yeah. Yeah, he remembers, all right. Everything about Puck had been perfect and awesome that night. He still remembers how Puck smelled and tasted and the way Finn had gotten goosebumps everywhere Puck’s skin had touched._ _ _

___“Remember how hard we were just from kissing?” Puck leans in and kisses Finn, quickly making it deep and dirty while his hand starts to trail down toward Finn’s waistband. Finn grips the back of Puck’s head and holds him close, only easing up when Puck starts to pull away, sucking gently on Finn’s tongue as he does._ _ _

___“Yeah. Just like that.” Puck skips his hand over Finn’s waistband and traces Finn’s cock, which is already half-hard, through his shorts. “Fuck, we wanted each other so bad. Remember how it felt the first time I did this?” He cups his hand around Finn’s cock and gently strokes along its length, rubbing more firmly with his thumb as Finn gets harder. Finn’s hips jerk a little despite himself, and he spreads his legs to give Puck more room._ _ _

___“Guess you do remember. I was hard, too, just from doing that. I know you could tell.” He takes Finn’s hand and brings it to the front of his own jeans, curling Finn’s fingers along where he’s hard up against his hip. Finn pulses his palm and squeezes gently, a little amazed at how fast Puck has gotten hard. “Feel that, Finn? We’re 18 again. Show me how I’m making you feel.”_ _ _

___Finn pulls Puck to him again with a hand balled up in the front of his shirt and kisses him, hard and a little desperate. Puck moves his hand faster along Finn’s cock, still over his shorts, and presses up against Finn’s insistent pulsing. Finn’s so caught up in the kissing and the hands everywhere that he doesn’t realize that Puck’s been trying to nudge Finn’s shirt up and off until it’s at his chin. He pulls back and grins at Puck in a way that must look pretty dopey, if the grin Puck’s giving him means anything, but he does lift his arms and help Puck._ _ _

___Puck straddles Finn’s waist and looks down at him, his head cocked. “You’re so fucking beautiful.” He puts his hands at Finn’s shoulders and drags them down, tracing along each muscle of Finn’s chest and circling around the outside of Finn’s nipples with his fingertips. Finn can hear himself whimper, and Puck smiles. “How’d it feel the first time I touched you here?” he asks, and lets his fingers stroke across Finn’s nipples, lightly scraping with just the very edge of his nails._ _ _

___“Oh _fuck_.” Finn tips his head back. “Can you do that again?” _ _ _

___“Still making you see stars?” Puck drags his nails again, and then a third time, pinching sharply at the very end. Finn sucks in a breath and makes a noise that sounds way too much like a whimper. “Guess that’s a yes.”_ _ _

___Puck slides down Finn’s body and bows his head, giving Finn a quick grin before starting to plant soft, open-mouthed kisses all over Finn’s chest. “We’re 18 and in your bedroom,” Puck begins, in between kisses. “We can’t get enough of each other.” He drags his nails down Finn’s sides and circles around Finn’s left nipple with his tongue. “Every time I taste your skin, I feel dizzy. Fuck, you still taste that good.” Puck licks up Finn’s nipple and sucks gently. Finn arches his back to get Puck’s mouth closer, not wanting to put a hand on the back of Puck’s head just in case Puck has other ideas of where to put his mouth._ _ _

___And in fact, Puck seems to, because he drags his body farther down Finn, kissing all over his stomach as he goes. When he gets to Finn’s waistband again, he hooks his fingers under it and looks up at Finn, raising an eyebrow. “Is your heart pounding?”_ _ _

___Finn nods because it is. It really really is. He’s rock-hard already and he’s already slightly worried about how long he might last. It’s him and Puck, fresh from practice and pushing against each other on Finn’s double bed. Everything Puck does feels like it’s brand-new, and he’s almost positive that _every_ part of him will think so too. _ _ _

___Puck carefully pulls Finn’s waist band up and over his cock, and then slides Finn’s shorts just down to his upper thighs. Finn watches Puck as he licks his lips, staring down at Finn’s erection. He’s looking at it like he’s never seen it before, and he lightly runs his fingers up Finn’s thigh and in until he stops himself right at the base of Finn’s cock._ _ _

___“Watch,” Puck says quietly, and Finn’s not sure what Puck’s talking about until he steps off the bed and starts pulling his shirt over his head. Finn watches Puck’s perfectly toned chest and abs come into view, feeling a little bit in awe that Puck’s been choosing _Finn_ over and over all these years. Puck undoes his jeans and pushes them off his hips. Finn’s not surprised to see that Puck’s not wearing boxers, but his mouth waters anyway as Puck’s own pretty fucking hard cock is revealed. _ _ _

___“‘s that for me?”_ _ _

___“Always.”_ _ _

___Finn reaches for Puck, who lies back down next to him. Puck kisses him softly, just once, and angles his body toward Finn. “Go ahead. I want you to.”_ _ _

___Finn can tell from Puck’s wide eyes that he’s already slid back again to that day seven years ago, so he reaches out and closes his entire hand around Puck’s cock, grinning to himself when Puck sucks in a breath and looks down._ _ _

___“Shit. Look how good your hand looks on me.”_ _ _

___Finn smiles to himself. It _does_ look good. It always has. Puck’s so hard in Finn’s hand that Finn takes a minute to just feel him. Everything else is background right now; the only thing Finn wants is Puck everywhere. He moves his hand on Puck slowly, watching all the muscles in Puck’s abs and thighs twitch every time he strokes with his thumb _just so_. _ _ _

___“You like it?” Puck’s still watching Finn’s hand, but he nods anyway. Finn’s getting caught up in Puck’s reminiscing, and he leans in to whisper in Puck’s ear, “You can do that to me, too.”  
Puck looks up. “Yeah? Can I try something?” _ _ _

___“Anything you want.”_ _ _

___Puck grins. “Better think that one through. There’s a lot I want to try.” He straddles Finn’s thighs and immediately wraps his hand around Finn’s cock. “Oh fuck yes.” Finn reaches blindly for the bedside table, where Puck had tossed the lube before he’d crawled onto the bed, and slides the bottle down to Puck._ _ _

___“‘m probably gonna come pretty soon.” Finn bucks his hips as much as he can with Puck sitting on them. Puck grins._ _ _

___“Can’t wait.” He drizzles lube into his hand and immediately starts stroking Finn’s cock, fast enough for Finn to barely catch his breath. “Yeah. Definitely can’t wait.” Puck stops long enough to apply lube to his own cock, and then he slowly lowers himself onto Finn until they’re sliding against each other. It’s both a little more awkward and a lot more intense than it has been in years, and Finn wraps both arms around Puck when Puck leans all the way down to kiss him._ _ _

___Puck doesn’t waste any time before he starts rolling his hips down, and they’re grinding--humping, basically, Finn thinks--frantically almost immediately. Finn claws his hands down Puck’s back to his ass, and he digs his nails in as hard as he can, urging Puck to go faster. It’s pretty raw and stripped-down--like they wanted each other so bad they didn’t want to wait any longer--and the urgency is just making it hotter. Puck speeds up his thrusts, and Finn wasn’t kidding before; he’s not going to last long._ _ _

___Puck’s stopped kissing Finn, and he’s just panting in Finn’s ear, his hot breath making everything feel that much more intense. Puck shifts his hips just a little bit, and whatever he does makes Finn see stars. He cries out and scratches his nails _hard_ up Puck’s ass, and the moan Puck lets out right next to Finn’s ear is just as hot and thrilling as it was when they were 18. _ _ _

___“Oh shit, Puck. Puck! I’m gonna come!”_ _ _

___“Fuck yeah you are,” Puck grits out, and speeds up his hips. “You’re gonna come all over us, and so am I. C’mon. Wanna feel it.”_ _ _

___Finn groans and grips Puck’s hips, holding him in place as he comes. It does go all over their stomachs and chests, and Puck slides through the mess a couple thrusts more before he’s coming too, shaking against Finn like he’s feeling it for the first time._ _ _

___“Like that?” Finn laughs out shakily._ _ _

___“Mmph. That’ll work,” Puck mumbles into Finn’s neck, before laughing too. He slides off Finn and lands next to him on his back. “We’re fucking disgusting.”_ _ _

___“Yeah,” Finn sighs. “It’s pretty awesome.” He leans over the side of the bed and grabs Puck’s shirt where he’d thrown it, wiping himself clean before handing it to Puck. He watches Puck clean off his chest and stomach and grins when Puck shrugs and tosses the shirt onto the super-expensive floor._ _ _

___“Like I always say. We’re really fucking good at that,” Puck says, and turns back onto his side to face Finn. “How’s your leg feeling?”_ _ _

___Finn wiggles his shorts off the rest of the way and chucks them over the bed in the direction of Puck’s shirt. “Nothin I can’t handle.”_ _ _

___Puck snorts. “Tough guy.” He kisses Finn softly. “You okay with it?”_ _ _

___Finn knows what he’s not saying. The end of Finn’s season and the end--or suspension, really--of Finn’s streak. Baseball being cut short when they both thought they’d have four more weeks to prove themselves. “I’m not sure,” he says truthfully. “Guess I don’t have a choice.”_ _ _

___Puck doesn’t say anything--just watches Finn’s face for several long minutes. Finn thinks about how un-weird it was to recreate the feeling of their first time, and then he thinks about their actual first time. There’s so many things he wants to tell then-Finn, but he realizes that the thing he’d want to tell him most of all is to always choose Puck and to never choose fear._ _ _

___“Remember that time Burt caught us in your kitchen and instead of yelling he just stared straight ahead and got a beer like he weren’t bent over his kitchen table?”_ _ _

___“Oh my god,” Finn groans and covers his eyes. “I’d blocked that out.”_ _ _

___“Dude. That was kind of awesome. And remember before we came out when Kurt thought we wouldn’t realize he was having a conversation with Blaine in the living room about lube?”_ _ _

___“‘But Kurt, I’m the one who’s done the research. We need something with _silicone_ because it lasts longer. It’s just better if you let me decide. I have all the latest studies right here.’” _ _ _

___“Oh man. Oh man you sound just like that little weasel. Please don’t ever break that out when we’re fucking.” Puck smacks Finn across the chest and groans._ _ _

___“Oh no?” Finn waggles his eyebrows. “Sure you don’t have a thing for loafers and capri pants?”_ _ _

___“Bow ties. It’s the bow ties. Wear them and I’m all yours.” Puck fake-swoons._ _ _

___Finn imagines himself in a bow tie and makes a face. “Don’t let my mom hear you. She’ll bring out my first-grade pictures.”_ _ _

___Puck snorts and moves closer to Finn, resting his head on Finn’s chest. “Fuck, I love you so much.”_ _ _

___Finn runs his fingers through Puck’s hair. “I love you too. Don’t tell 18-year-old Puck, but I think this version just keeps getting better and better.”_ _ _

___Puck doesn’t say anything at first, but he kisses Finn’s chest and sighs._ _ _

___“So do you,” he finally says, almost too quiet for Finn to hear._ _ _

___“You and me,” Finn says._ _ _

___“Always has been.”_ _ _

___ _

___When Finn wakes up, it’s still dark out, but his heart’s racing like something’s just jolted him out of a sound sleep. Puck’s snoring, his face smushed against the back of Finn’s neck and his arm thrown across Finn’s hips. Finn very slowly and steadily reaches for his phone and slides it onto the bed far enough so he can see it with one eye open. It’s 4:00am, which means Puck doesn’t have to leave for another three hours. Finn considers falling back to sleep, but he’s already got that adrenaline feeling racing, and he can barely catch his breath, let alone think about sleeping. He squints at his phone again and sees a text alert he missed the first time. It’s from Quinn, wanting to tell them she’ll be in Ohio in a week for a seminar if either of them need a “girlfriend.” She signed it with a heart, like she’s signed all her texts since she and Finn were dating, and Finn frowns, looking at it._ _ _

___That ball is back in Finn’s stomach, but this time it’s not fear or uncertainty. It’s uneasiness. The text feels wrong. Hiding in hotels feels wrong. Watching their words all the time feels wrong. Having to pretend is exhausting and awful and unfair to Puck, when all Finn wants to do is show him off all over the place. But the difference, Finn thinks, between the ball in his stomach before and the one he’s feeling now is that Finn knows how to make _this one_ go away. _ _ _

___“Hey. Puck.” Finn hisses, and rubs Puck’s arm. Puck makes a “hmph” noise and buries his face farther into Finn’s neck._ _ _

___“Hey, hey, wake up!” Finn carefully rolls over until his face is inches from Puck’s, and he kisses Puck’s ear before whispering in it. “C’mon, Puck. If you wake up, I’ll get you cake.” Finn has no idea whether or not that’s possible, but his growling stomach makes him think it might be worth finding out. Puck snorts, but his eyes do flutter open, and he rubs them with the back of his hand._ _ _

___“Are you awake yet?” Finn runs his hand along Puck’s side and tries not to let Puck know how impatient he is._ _ _

___“Wh--Finn? Are you okay?” Puck clears his throat and blinks at Finn._ _ _

___Finn grins at Puck, watching his sleep-foggy face. He stares so long he realizes he never answered Puck, and that Puck probably still thinks something’s wrong._ _ _

___“Oh! Yes. I just missed you.” Finn shrugs and keeps grinning. He watches as Puck slowly grins back, still blinking a little._ _ _

___“Yeah? Cool. What time is it?”_ _ _

___“Four. Want some cake?”_ _ _

___“Sure.” Puck pushes himself up so he’s sitting with his back against the headboard. Finn rolls over and turns the light on and opens the bedside table drawer, grinning when he finds a big room service menu. He sits up next to Puck and opens the menu across their laps._ _ _

___“Oh dude! That one has brownies _and_ cherries _and_ coconut.” Finn jabs at the page. _ _ _

___“Too bad there won’t be any left for you after I order it all.” Puck kisses Finn under his ear and rests his head on Finn’s shoulder. “You want to get the three to share?”_ _ _

___“Ooh! Cheeseboard!”_ _ _

___“You want one of the desserts to be cheese?”_ _ _

___“Well,” Finn shrugs. “yeah.”_ _ _

___“Okay cool. Just checking.” Puck squeezes Finn’s hand under the menu. “Then you want the brownie thing and...you want to just get two brownie things?”_ _ _

___“This is why I love you.” Finn grabs the hotel iPad from the table and figures out the room service app. When he gets to the confirmation screen, he starts laughing and elbows Puck. “Oh shit, look!”_ _ _

___“Fucking Kurt.” Puck snorts. “He booked us as _Schue_ ” _ _ _

___“Let’s not tell Schue what ‘he’ did last night, though.” Finn finalizes their order and puts the iPad back on the dock._ _ _

___“He’d make that _face_ ”_ _ _

___“Oh, man. With the _eyes_.”_ _ _

___“That’s it. Next time we’re in Lima, we’re taking a trip to McKinley.” Puck points at Finn for emphasis._ _ _

___“We should bring an extra vest in case he rips his in disgust.”_ _ _

___“‘Rip-proof vests: for those times when someone mentions dick.’”_ _ _

___“We’d be millionaires.”_ _ _

___ _

___Finn was right that a cheeseboard is an awesome dessert, and they end up eating all of it, even the figs that the restaurant probably put on there by mistake. The trifle’s just as good, like they both thought it would be, and they eat most of it with their fingers, laughing and fighting over the same bowl._ _ _

___When they’re full and there are brownie crumbs places Finn didn’t know there could _be_ crumbs, they lie back down, their limbs draped over each other. _ _ _

___“I’m never eating again,” Puck groans, but he sounds pretty happy about it._ _ _

___“The app said they have Belgian waffles.”_ _ _

___“Okay, breakfast first, then never eating again.” Puck strokes the inside of Finn’s thigh lazily._ _ _

___“I want to do it.”_ _ _

___“Mm?” Puck walks his fingers up Finn’s leg. “Lube’s on your side.”_ _ _

___“No, I--” Finn looks at the ceiling. “I want to come out. I want. If you want to. I want that.”_ _ _

___“Finn?” Puck’s hand stops, and Finn can feel him looking right at him. The air in the room feels really still, like neither of them are even breathing._ _ _

___“I don’t want to hide us anymore,” Finn says so quietly he’s not sure Puck heard._ _ _

___“Please don’t do it for me. I was an idiot.”_ _ _

___Finn shakes his head and finally looks back at Puck. “Quinn texted me,” he explains. “She wanted to know if we needed a ‘girlfriend’ next week while she’s in the Midwest.” He shakes his head again. “It’s not okay anymore. We’ve loved each other too long now. It’s time to tell everyone.”_ _ _

___Puck reaches out and runs his fingers along the edge of Finn’s ear, trailing them down his neck and arm until he can link their fingers together. He squeezes Finn’s hand._ _ _

___“Okay.”_ _ _

___“Yeah?” Finn asks. He’s almost afraid to ask for clarification, in case Puck changes his mind right away._ _ _

___“Yeah. Definitely. Let’s do it.”_ _ _

___Finn exhales, and it’s then that he realizes he’d been holding his breath in between words since he brought it up._ _ _

___“It’s probably going to suck at times.”_ _ _

___Puck nods. “Are you okay about that?”_ _ _

___“It’s you and me, right?” Finn smiles. “It’ll suck but then at the end we still get to have this and we get to have it without hiding. That’s a pretty good tradeoff.”_ _ _

___“Don’t have to convince me, King Huddy.” Puck smiles back and leans in to kiss Finn. “Shit, this is real, isn’t it?”_ _ _

___“If it’s a dream, we’re both dreaming, which is pretty awesome.” Finn grins full-out, now, and Puck grins back, his eyes a little shiny._ _ _

___“Man, Quinn is going to be so disappointed.” Puck chuckles, moving toward Finn._ _ _

___“I know. Her days of free meals in exchange for having to fake-date us are over forever.” Finn sighs dramatically. “We should probably take her out for lots of real free meals as friends to make up for it.”_ _ _

___“Mmm,” Puck says, pushing Finn onto his back. “Let’s do that later. Right now I want to see what else we can do in this dream before we wake up.”_ _ _

___ _

___********_ _ _

___“Number 45!”_ _ _

___Puck slides a styrofoam container over to Finn and opens the one he brought back for himself, digging into whatever it is that’s inside it before Finn even has a chance to peek at his._ _ _

___“What’s this?” Finn’s stomach growls despite himself and despite the fact that what’s in the container is only about half identifiable._ _ _

___“Garbage plate,” Puck says, ketchup on his cheek. “‘s good. You’ll love it.”_ _ _

___“Huh.” Finn stares down at his food, which does smell really really good. “Yeah, okay.” He shrugs and scoops a huge forkful of it, shoveling it in his mouth before he can worry about it too much._ _ _

___“Good, right?” Puck spears what looks like home fries on his fork, and drags them through what Finn is 95% sure is macaroni salad._ _ _

___“Mmm hmm,” Finn mumbles, because it really is. He’s still not sure what he’s eating, even though the fluorescent lights are so bright they’re making Puck look the same shade of yellow as the tables. But he eats more of it anyway, mixing the hamburger patties he can _definitely_ identify into the rest of it. “What’s in it?”_ _ _

___Puck finishes chewing and points to Finn’s container with his fork. “Burgers, mac salad, baked beans, home fries, onions, and ketchup. And that watery chili thing on top of everything is what they call ‘hot sauce’.” Puck shrugs. “I don’t ask questions.”_ _ _

___Now that Finn knows what’s in the container, he can see everything clearly, and he really digs in, not looking up again until someone bumps his chair. He nods at the drunk college guy stumbling by, and looks over at Puck, who’s wiping his mouth, about a quarter of the garbage plate still left._ _ _

___“Never did figure out how to finish one,” Puck offers as an explanation, and Finn grins._ _ _

___“More for me.”_ _ _

___He does finish his garbage plate, and the rest of Puck’s, and he’s just washing it down with the tail end of his pop when he realizes the entire restaurant is full. “I feel really sober right now.”_ _ _

___Puck snorts. “The nice thing about being on the other side of it is none of the drunk douchebags annoy you. The bad part is you end up buying garbage plates for all your new douchebag friends.”_ _ _

___“I’m not buying garbage plates for anyone! Except maybe me. I’d buy another one for me.” Finn tosses their empty containers in the trash and chews on the straw of his drink as they walk out to the car._ _ _

___“Well congratulations. You’re officially in Rochester now.” Puck starts the car and looks over at Finn. “I guess we can keep you.”_ _ _

___“Oh is that my initiation?” Finn jokes. “Did I have to finish the garbage plate or just take a bite?”_ _ _

___“Adequate enthusiasm for the crowning glory of the city.” Puck nods to himself. “You passed.”_ _ _

___“Thought that was you. I can show enthusiasm for you.” Finn rests his hand on Puck’s knee, drumming his fingers to the beat of the new Bruno Mars-Taylor Swift song._ _ _

___“I’ll hold you to that.” Finn can see Puck flash him a grin in the lights of the businesses they’re passing. “Hotel now?”_ _ _

___“Unless you want to pull over right here.” Finn peers out at an abandoned gas station._ _ _

___“I can see the headlines now,” Puck says dryly. “Hot Ballplayers Caught Fucking Next to Pile of Old Tires.”_ _ _

___“Dude, what newspapers are you reading?”_ _ _

___Puck snorts. “That’s how I’d write it. Maybe more words describing exactly how hot we are and exactly what we were doing.”_ _ _

___“You should describe that to me when we get to the room.” Finn squeezes Puck’s knee. “You should do that as soon as we get in the door, even.”_ _ _

___“Yeah, that’s an awesome idea,” Puck says. “And there’s no old tires there.”_ _ _

___ _

___Finn’s happily full everywhere, the hotel sheets still cool under him despite the fact that he’s flushed hot and slick all over. He grips the pillow under his head a little harder and pulls his legs up closer to the headboard, feeling Puck sink in even deeper._ _ _

___“Oh _fuck_ ,” Puck moans near Finn’s ear. “I’ve never been in so deep. Fuck. You feel amazing.”_ _ _

___Finn sighs contentedly and pulls his legs up as far as they can go, groaning helplessly at the satisfied feeling when Puck bottoms out hard and sure. He lets his body be rocked forward with each hard, slow thrust. Puck’s not touching him anywhere else-- just gripping Finn just above his hips--but the hard, deliberate fucking is making it feel like Puck is _everywhere_. _ _ _

___It’s all so exciting and weirdly relaxing all at the same time. Finn can hear himself making deep guttural noises that almost sound and feel like crying or laughing, except nothing's funny or sad. But it’s not anything he can help, and the feeling gets more and more intense the harder Puck drives deep inside him. Finn’s world narrows down to Puck’s cock and the building feeling in his chest and stomach and the way the sheets are sliding against his skin. He lets the hard rocking motion concentrate all of that until the build-up gets to be too much to take._ _ _

___“You want more?” It’s not really a question, and Finn realizes he had been shaking all over._ _ _

___“God. Please. Just.”_ _ _

___“Oh yeah. You really do, don’t you?” Puck leans forward, resting his hands on either side of Finn’s, and speeds up his thrusts. Finn can feel the rolling motion of Puck’s hips, and the rhythm is smooth and the angle completely perfect._ _ _

___Finn’s making noises he can’t control now, almost like he’s crying out, and he’d be embarrassed if everything didn’t feel so overwhelming and perfect. Puck lowers himself all the way down so his chest is against Finn’s back, and Finn wiggles a little at the satisfying pressure along his body._ _ _

___“Fuck, you’re close. I can feel it.” Puck starts to thrust erratically, grinding Finn into the mattress. “Will you come for me?”_ _ _

___Finn nods, gasping, and grinds against the sheet, letting the weight of Puck’s body help him find the friction he needs. Puck’s motions are stuttering, and he bites down between Finn’s neck and shoulder, cutting off a moan._ _ _

___Finn doesn’t manage to muffle _his_ , as the sharp stab of Puck’s teeth on his skin sends him right to the edge of coming. “Oh god, more. _Harder_ ,” Finn manages, and shakes his head when Puck misunderstands. _ _ _

___“Your teeth.”_ _ _

___Puck complies immediately, and Finn cries out as the pain gets sharper. Puck bites down one more time, and then Finn is coming, barely registering the sudden “oh, _fuck!_ ” from Puck right before Finn can feel him coming too, his mouth clamped to Finn’s skin. _ _ _

___Finn must doze very lightly immediately after he comes, because he has a moment that feels like waking up from a nap, even though he registers that it probably wasn’t longer than a minute or two. Puck is heavy on top of him, quietly running his tongue over the place where he bit, which Finn can feel is still stinging and sore but creating a pleasant buzzing feeling all over._ _ _

___“Mmm, hi.” Finn cranes his neck to peek at Puck, who grins and leans down for a kiss. “That was fucking awesome.”_ _ _

___“We make a good team.” Puck kisses Finn on his temple. “Still say they shoulda drafted us together.”_ _ _

___“Yeah that would’ve--fuck.” Finn winces as he rotates his shoulder. “Would’ve been nice. They wouldn’t know what hit ‘em.”_ _ _

___“Nope.” Puck rolls off Finn and off to his side, still panting a little but grinning. “That was so hot.”_ _ _

___“Yeah,” Finn says, grinning back sleepily. “That thing at the end, what…”_ _ _

___Puck stretches. “Right? Um, you liked that, didn’t you.” It’s not a question._ _ _

___“You should definitely do that again. Like, really really soon.” Finn frowns and looks at Puck’s mouth. “Is that-- was I bleeding?”_ _ _

___“Oh. Yeah.” Puck shrugs, looking pretty sheepish. “That’s kind of what, ah.” Puck rubs the back of his neck. “It kind of put me over the edge.”_ _ _

___“Oh.” Finn kisses the spot on Puck’s mouth. “Cool.”_ _ _

___“Yeah it is.” Puck tugs on Finn’s earlobe. “Let’s go to bed so I can show off for you tomorrow.”_ _ _

___“Oh yeah? But what were you planning on doing _on_ the field?” _ _ _

___ _

___Finn has to admit that Puck’s gig is a hell of a lot cooler than playing in Omaha, even if there’s no barbeque. Puck gets him a ticket next to the Red Wings dugout, and Finn fully plans on making faces at Puck when he’s in the on-deck circle. Finn takes a lap around the concourse, making note of the quarter-pound hot dog he’s going to circle back and get. He gets a fan to take a picture of him with a giant statue of a bird wearing a jersey, and then he wanders into the gift shop. Maybe he can get Puck a stuffed version of that bird or something._ _ _

___Three steps into the store, Finn stops and has to put his hand over his mouth to keep from laughing out loud. There, on a display in the middle of the store, are stacks and stacks of t-shirts with cartoon-Pucks on them, mohawk and all. Still laughing, Finn grabs the closest one and holds it up. Puck’s name and number are on the back, and, looking closer, Finn can see that the cartoon-Puck even has on Puck’s high-top spikes! Gleefully, he buys one each for himself, Burt, Carole, and Kurt, and at the last minute, grabs one for Schue, who keeps texting Finn to ask how they’re doing._ _ _

___Armed with his bag full of cartoon-Pucks, plus the one he pulled over over his own shirt before he even left the store, Finn buys his loaded hot dog with sauerkraut and onions, an order of fries, and a soft pretzel. He debates getting a beer, but he’s running out of hands, and the cartoon-Pucks are too valuable to end up covered in beer before he can get them out of the ballpark._ _ _

___The Wings’ starting lineup are warming up when Finn gets back to his seat, and he slides his tray of food onto the dugout before waving wildly toward Puck, gesturing at his shirt when Puck looks over and waves. Puck makes a horrified face and shakes his head, shouting something across the diamond to Finn._ _ _

___“Can’t hear you! Sorry!” Finn says cheerfully, and he sits back down to start in on his food. He feels almost giddy, taking big bites of his hot dog while he watches Puck throw long-toss and run wind sprints. Puck stops in the middle of a run to talk to the trainer, and Finn can’t take his eyes off him. Somehow, they’ve almost made it, both of them, and a part of Finn still can’t believe he gets to do this. He grins down at his shirt, catching a piece of sauerkraut right before it falls on cartoon-Puck’s face. None of it feels real but all of it feels pretty damn awesome._ _ _

___Finn hasn’t been able to watch Puck play like this since they were both in college and he managed to sneak down to Tallahassee on a red-eye with his stashed per diem. He takes in all of it, raking his eyes over Puck’s body in his uni like they were in high school again and slapping each others’ asses during games way more than was probably necessary. Puck’s all lean muscle now, slimmed down on the advice of his coach in New Britain, and he has compact power when he swings that Finn can see ripple from his thighs to his arms. Finn flushes when he realizes he has to pull his pretzel tray over his lap, but is mostly just so full of pride he feels like he could burst. He gulps the beer he’d ended up snagging from a vendor and watches Puck take two close pitches before sending a hanging curveball into right field. Finn’s on his feet so fast he almost spills his beer on the very nice lesbians next to him, and he gets all the way through a whooping cheer and fist-pump before he realizes that no one else is standing. He grins sort of sheepishly and sits back down, as though acting like a second-inning single in a minor league game is a walk-off homer is something people do all the time._ _ _

___“Hey.” Finn looks over at the woman next to him, who’s talking just loud enough for him to hear. “He’s good.”_ _ _

___Finn beams. “I know! And he’s added so much power! See how he goes the other way now? That’s all bat control and forearm strength. He used to be a straight pull-hitter, but this is _really_ going to change his whole game.” _ _ _

___“Oh!” The woman puts her hand over her mouth, but Finn can see she’s hiding a smile. She looks back out to the field, and Finn follows her gaze just in time to catch Puck looking right at Finn and grinning while he listens to the first-base coach. He feels himself turning red again, so he turns back to the woman, who has an eyebrow raised. “How long have you two...?” she asks, lowering her voice even more, and Finn’s eyes widen._ _ _

___“Um,” He manages, scrunching his face up and trying to look like he has no idea what she means. “We went to high school together,” he finally settles on, smiling in what he hopes is not a ‘you totally got me my boyfriend is standing on first base and after the game we’re going to go do boyfriend stuff to each other for hours’ way._ _ _

___The woman’s mouth pulls up at one side and she pushes a loose piece of hair behind her ear. “Well,” she says, “you should be very proud.”_ _ _

___Finn beams again, before he can help himself, and he turns back to the game just in time to see the number nine hitter strike out. He busies himself with watching Puck jog back into the dugout and making it look like he’s actually really interested in the beer ads next to the jumbotron. Puck winks at him, though, right before he tosses his glove on the bench, making Finn’s efforts useless. He grins down into his pretzel, ripping a piece off and dragging it through the mustard, and purposely ignores the polite coughing noise coming from his left._ _ _

___By the fifth inning, Finn’s ready for more food, and he wanders over to the ‘Sweet Spot’ past right field to stock up on cotton candy and fried dough. An older woman comments on his shirt on his way back, talking about ‘the cute second baseman with the hair,’ and Finn points her to the team store. Something about being in Puck’s ballpark, even if they both hope it’s only for one season, is making Finn giddy, and he has to buy a new cotton candy at the booth near his section because he eats the first one on the way._ _ _

___When he gets back to his seat, his fingers sticky, Puck’s on-deck, and he grins at Finn (and probably Finn’s dessert haul) when he sees him. Finn shrugs and waves a strip of fried dough at Puck, sticking out his tongue._ _ _

___“Heyyyy, Puck!”_ _ _

___Finn looks over his shoulder. There’s a pretty redhead in a Wings jersey waving down to the field and smiling. When he turns back to Puck, Puck catches Finn’s eye before looking over his head and nodding, smiling just a little bit._ _ _

___Finn scowls and watches Puck knock the donut off his bat and step up to the plate, “Cherry Cherry” playing in the background. He’s no stranger to girls trying to get his attention. None of the guys are, really, but Finn’s found that being tall and friendly helps a lot. There’s usually girls lined up along the back of the dugout before games, some of them obviously flirting and some of them just wanting to say hi, but all of them willing to give the players undivided attention. Finn tries to say hi to all of them anyway, especially since even the flirting girls like to talk baseball, but some of the guys really take advantage, and sometimes Finn ends up seeing them out later with the same girls, pressed up together in dark booths at the bar._ _ _

___He knows, in the rational part of his brain, that it’s no different for Puck. And he knows that Puck isn’t going home with any of the girls, or even making them think he will. But the idea of them wanting him even close to the way _he_ wants Puck makes his stomach clench. Finn looks back over his shoulder at the girl, who’s still staring pretty moonily at Puck but otherwise not doing anything wrong. Finn hmphs a little bit to himself and works on finishing his fried dough. _ _ _

___Finn does still peek at her a couple more times during the game, but she doesn’t yell out to Puck again, and Finn starts to feel at least mostly like he’s overreacting by the time the game ends and Puck makes a show out of signing some autographs and fussing with his gear until the crowd thins out. Then he runs over to the railing in front of Finn’s seat._ _ _

___“Hang out here, okay? When I’m done, we can walk out that way.” He points toward the city skyline. “There’s a restaurant on the river one of the guys said we’ll like.” He taps Finn’s knuckles and heads into the dugout._ _ _

___“Puck!” Finn recognizes her voice right away, so this time he keeps his eyes on Puck, who gives the girl a polite smile and keeps walking._ _ _

___“Puck, let me buy you a drink!” Finn does look over at that. The redhead is leaning over the dugout, holding a paper out to Puck, who’s starting to look exhausted._ _ _

___“Have a good night,” Puck says, his mouth pulled into a pained smile. The girl is still leaning over the dugout, pouting, and it’s at that point that Finn realizes she’s probably even younger than they are, maybe no older than 21, so he gets up, setting all his food trash on the top of the dugout, and lopes over to her._ _ _

___“Hi there,” Finn smiles in a way he hopes isn’t threatening _or_ overly friendly._ _ _

___“Hi.” She sounds close to tears, and Finn frowns a little when he realizes who she reminds him of._ _ _

___“Did you enjoy the game?”_ _ _

___She nods. “I want to see Slowey get back to the bigs. He hasn’t been the same since the quad thing, but he was hitting 92 tonight.”_ _ _

___Finn grins. “Good splitter will keep you on a roster.”_ _ _

___“Yeah,” she says, and peeks over the dugout again. “Do you think he’s coming back out?”_ _ _

___“Slowey?” Finn blinks._ _ _

___“Puck! I want to give him my number!” She keeps her eyes on the dugout entrance, rocking up on her toes, the piece of paper still in her hand._ _ _

___“Aw, hey, you know, it was a long game. He’s probably just going to head out. But if you bring a ball or his card next time, bet he’ll sign for you.”_ _ _

___She twists her mouth to the side for a minute before nodding and picking up her bag. “You should play ball,” she says, looking at him finally. “You’re built like a pitcher.”_ _ _

___With that, she jogs up the stairs and out to the concourse, leaving Finn raising his eyebrows after her._ _ _

___“Sorry that took forever. Jacked up my back on that last swing and had the trainer rub it loose.”_ _ _

___Finn shakes his head. “Uncool, Puckerman. Leave me waiting _and_ have another guy rub you.”_ _ _

___Puck chuckles. “I’ll make it up to you somehow. Dinner? Guys said this place has burgers the size of your head.”_ _ _

___ _

___The Hampton Inn is one of the nicest places Finn and Puck ever stay in, and the huge free breakfast makes it even better. But tonight, rolling around on the bed with Puck and kissing roughly as they try to pin each other over and over, they could be anywhere and Finn would still think it was the most awesome hotel ever._ _ _

___“Mmm, _fuck_ ,” Puck pants into Finn’s ear in between rough, teeth-scraping kisses along Finn’s neck. Finn bucks up against Puck and drags his nails down Puck’s back. _ _ _

___“What do you want?” Finn muscles his leg between Puck’s, loving the feeling of Puck immediately grinding against it._ _ _

___“You. More of you.”_ _ _

___“Then take it.”_ _ _

___Puck scrapes his teeth along Finn’s neck even harder, and Finn remembers the feeling from the night before, so he grips the back of Puck’s head to hold him in place. He flexes his thigh and bucks up again, groaning at the feel of Puck’s hard abs grinding along his cock. Puck starts to bite down, and Finn quickly slides a hand between their bodies, stroking himself desperately so all he has to do is let go when Puck breaks the skin and he’s coming, letting the shockwaves of sharp pain and Puck’s muffled moans against his neck draw it out of him._ _ _

___“Oh god, you taste so good.”_ _ _

___It takes Finn a minute to realize what Puck means, because Puck’s mouth is nowhere near Finn’s cock, but Puck is slowly running his tongue over Finn’s bite wounds again, like he did the night before, and making little contented moans. When Finn understands what, exactly, Puck is tasting, he feels his face get hot and his cock impossibly tries to stir again._ _ _

___“It’s all yours,” Finn says quietly, and strokes his fingertips up and down Puck’s back. He means it, too, in a way probably only Puck would understand._ _ _

___“So good,” Puck repeats, and kisses Finn deeply, immediately running his tongue along Finn’s. Finn realizes at some point that Puck must have come, too, because he’s heavy and boneless on top of Finn, and he’s kissing Finn lazily. With a final peck, Puck rolls to Finn’s side and grins at him, running a hand through Finn’s hair._ _ _

___“You like the game tonight?”_ _ _

___Finn’s tempted to ask “which one?” but he rolls toward Puck instead and just grins back._ _ _

___“Looked good out there.”_ _ _

___“I _feel_ good, you know? Like things are started to click into place. Swing feels real smooth right now.” _ _ _

___“I’m so proud of you,” Finn says, and strokes along Puck’s arm to his fingers, where he links their hands._ _ _

___“Me too. _King Huddy_ ” Puck winks. “Everyone wants to be us, I bet.” _ _ _

___“Some more than others.” Finn chews the inside of his cheek, debating whether to bring anything up at all. “I met one of your fans today.”_ _ _

___“Oh?” Puck raises an eyebrow before something seems to dawn on him. “Oh, my friend who wants to buy me a drink?” He chuckles. “What’d she have to say?”_ _ _

___“Liked Slowey’s splitter pretty good.” Finn shrugs. “She’s harmless.”_ _ _

___Puck looks at Finn funny, almost like he’s studying him, and then his face breaks into a slow smile. “Do you wish I didn’t have any girls coming around?” he asks, but he sounds half-teasing and half-concerned._ _ _

___Finn shrugs again. “I’m not _worried_ or anything, if that’s what you mean.” _ _ _

___ _

___“What if I told you,” Puck says slowly, bringing their joined hands up to his mouth. “I sometimes can’t sleep at night feeling sick about the girls I know you don’t want who want you a whole hell of a lot?” He kisses each one of Finn’s fingers in between his own._ _ _

___“Oh. Well.” For about the fifteenth time in 24 hours, Finn feels himself blushing._ _ _

___“Yeah, there it is.” Puck waggles his eyebrows, making Finn’s face feel even hotter. “ I...have an idea. Of something I thought we could try. Can I tell you about it?”_ _ _

___Finn nods, and Puck gets up. “Don’t go anywhere.”_ _ _

___Puck rummages through his bag for a minute before climbing back on the bed, something small in his hand._ _ _

___“Lie on your back?”_ _ _

___Finn complies, and Puck straddles his hips, holding his palm flat so Finn can see what’s in it._ _ _

___“It’s a razor blade,” Puck says, somewhat unnecessarily. Finn squints at it and tries to figure out what Puck wants to do before he has to explain._ _ _

___“It’s...you liked when I bit you, right?” Finn nods, feeling his cock twitch a little, and he mentally yells at it to calm down. “Maybe I could mark you more deliberately. And, uh. Maybe it’ll last a little longer.”_ _ _

___“Mark me...oh. Oh!” Finn’s eyes go wide. A small part of his brain is focused in on how sharp the blade looks, but a way way bigger part has gone fuzzy with how much he didn’t know he wanted that until right this minute. “Okay yeah. Yeah.” He nods quickly. “Definitely.”_ _ _

___“I just figure that way I can--wait, yeah?”_ _ _

___Finn keeps nodding, smiling up at Puck from the fuzzy part of his brain._ _ _

___“Oh hell. Okay. Awesome. Okay we need….” Puck glances around the room and then looks sheepishly down at Finn. “probably alcohol, except we don’t have any, so I could just make sure you’re clean?”_ _ _

___Finn shrugs. “I’m okay with it if you are.”_ _ _

___“Well,” Puck frowns. “I just really want to do this.” he runs his hand up Finn’s side. “I’ll be right back.”_ _ _

___Puck heads into the bathroom, and Finn hears the water run for a long minute before Puck comes back out, holding a towel. He climbs back on the bed and kisses Finn softly, running his fingertips over the bite marks on Finn’s neck while he does._ _ _

___“I was thinking here?” Puck kisses a spot on Finn’s chest a couple inches below his collarbone._ _ _

___“Awesome,” Finn says, his voice sounding a little breathy even to his own ears._ _ _

___“Yeah?” Puck asks, kissing Finn again in the same spot. “Want everyone to know you’re mine?”_ _ _

___“Yeah. Fuck yeah.” Finn’s breath quickens, and he reaches down to loosely grip his cock, jacking it slowly._ _ _

___“Oh yeah, guess you do too.” Puck straightens up and Finn can see that he’s half-hard already, too, staring down at Finn like he maybe wants to eat him a little bit. Puck brings the towel to the spot where he had just been kissing, and cleans Finn’s chest in warm soapy circles. Finn sighs at the feeling and watches Puck rinse him and pat him dry, his cock quickly firming up in his hand like it knows what’s coming next._ _ _

___Puck unwraps the blade and presses just the corner to Finn’s skin, dragging it down too lightly to draw blood but sharp enough that Finn grips his cock a little tighter._ _ _

___“Any time you want me to stop, just tell me,” Puck says, and then presses down._ _ _

___Finn would cry out, but he suddenly can’t make any noise. It’s a thousand times better than Puck biting him felt. It’s sharp and it hurts but he can feel it rolling through him and concentrating right in his cock, which is now rock-hard in his fist. He watches Puck drag the blade down, slowly but not too deep, and he thinks that watching his blood pool to the surface as the blade passes over his skin might be the hottest thing he’s ever seen, and then Puck drags his tongue over it, practically _lapping_ Finn clean, and Finn almost loses his mind. _ _ _

___“Is one more cut okay?” Puck’s chest is rising and falling quickly, and his eyes look glazed, so Finn answers as fast as he can._ _ _

___“Yes. _Yes._. Please.”_ _ _

___Puck nods and presses the tip of the blade back into Finn’s skin, repeating the same motion but criss-crossing the first line. Finn’s so close to coming he’s sure only one more slide of his hand would set him off, but he holds off as long as he can, wanting to watch his blood disappear into Puck’s mouth one more time._ _ _

___Puck’s moaning before he can even get his tongue on Finn’s skin, and Finn thinks it might even be hotter the second time. Just as he wanted, he manages to keep himself from coming until Puck slides his tongue over the fresh blood, and then he gives in, coming all over his fist, Puck licking him clean all the way through it._ _ _

___“Can you-- Fuck.” Puck barely gets out, and Finn realizes that Puck is frantically jerking himself off too, his fist bumping against Finn’s leg. He rests his forehead on Finn’s chest and groans, gripping at Finn’s bicep with the hand still holding the blade. Puck shudders as he comes, and Finn realizes he’s still trying to taste Finn even as he’s coming between their bodies._ _ _

___They don’t move for what feels like a while, Finn listening to Puck’s ragged breathing in the otherwise quiet room. The pain has lessened to a pleasant dull throb, and Finn peeks at the mark. Puck managed to make it into a pretty perfect ‘X’, all things considered, and it looks like it probably really will stick around for a little while. It’s all kinds of cool and definitely thrilling when Finn thinks about it, Puck marking him like this. He figures that people might stare, and a couple of the guys will ask, but there’s nothing identifying there, and Finn thinks he can probably just get away with telling them he did it drunk on a dare. But it’s there and it’s from Puck and the thought makes Finn feel warm all over._ _ _

___“Hey.” Finn runs his hand along Puck’s side, and Puck blinks up at him, grinning. Puck pushes himself back up on his knees and stretches._ _ _

___“Oh shit,” Puck smirks. “That turned out pretty good. You like it?”_ _ _

___“Duh,” Finn says, grinning. “Pretty sure you felt me come.”_ _ _

___“Dingus,” Puck rolls his eyes, but his smirk’s already turned into a full-out grin of his own. “I mean my handiwork.”_ _ _

___Finn sticks out his tongue. “Yeah, yeah. You’re a regular fucking Picasso.”_ _ _

___“You think so?” Puck hauls himself off Finn and heads into the bathroom. “I could do one next with someone’s nose on their boob or their arm growing out of their head or something,” he shouts over the running water._ _ _

___“Maybe don’t do that! That sounds awful!”_ _ _

___“Yeah, I’ll probably stick to simple stuff for now.” Puck comes out of the bathroom with a fresh towel, and sets about cleaning Finn’s fresh wound again. “There. We probably should put gauze on it but we didn’t exactly plan this. Just sleep on your back tonight.”_ _ _

___“Okay,” Finn shrugs, and peers down at the mark again, which Puck _did_ do a good job cleaning. Puck throws both towels in the corner and lies down next to Finn. _ _ _

___“Baseball won’t break us.”_ _ _

___Finn looks at Puck curiously._ _ _

___“You and me,” he continues. “We’ll make it.”_ _ _

___Finns nods, frowning a little. “Okay. I know we will.”_ _ _

___“Promise, Finn.”_ _ _

___“I promise. It’s going to be awesome. You and me.” He takes Puck’s hand and squeezes it. “We’ll show them all.”_ _ _

___********_ _ _

___“Dude. You’ll never guess what I learned.”_ _ _

___Finn hops gingerly off the trainer’s table and waves good bye to Pete. “Dude,” he teases. “Does it involve live animals again? My mom was _pissed_ about the chicken shit in her kitchen.” _ _ _

___“Nah, that was an idea way too far ahead of its time. No, listen!”_ _ _

___The next thing Finn hears is a faint tinny noise that sounds like “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” if “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” was being played underwater by mice. After Puck’s done, Finn waits for more information, but Puck seems to think Finn doesn’t need any other explanation._ _ _

___“Well?”_ _ _

___“Uh. That was pretty cool, Puck. What is--no. Where’d you learn that?”_ _ _

___“Beemer taught me _and_ let me have his recorder!”_ _ _

___Oh. Finn’s glad Puck hadn’t asked him to guess._ _ _

___“Hey like fourth grade!”_ _ _

___“Yup, except this time hopefully Mrs. Brown won’t find out we’d been sharing the same gross spit-filled one all year.”_ _ _

___Finn snorts, remembering. “Oh man she went nuts!”_ _ _

___“Oh yeah. I’ve never seen someone’s face turn that shade of red before.”_ _ _

___By now, Finn’s laughing so hard he has to keep wiping his eyes. “Maybe you can play that at the interview. They’ll think you’re _that_ kind of gay dude.” _ _ _

___Puck scoffs. “I’m not any kind of gay dude.”_ _ _

___“Yeah but _they_ won’t know that right away! Okay, they’ll think you’re _that_ kind of pan dude.”_ _ _

___Finn can practically see Puck raise an eyebrow and wave his hand. “Where’s the lie? Recorders and whittling and kickass massages. I’m full of surprises.”_ _ _

___“Recorder-playing Pan Dude. You could go on to--oh man, Puck! Pan! You’re that half-goat guy who plays that flute thing!”_ _ _

___“Hmm.” Puck blows into the recorder again, this time all the notes at once or no notes at all. Finn’s not sure. “I’d look hot in horns.”_ _ _

___“You look hot anyway, but sure. Horns and hooves. We’ll get you special cleats.”_ _ _

___“The horns wouldn’t even interfere with the ‘hawk. They’d _enhance_ it.”_ _ _

___Finn snorts. “I can hear you preening. Did you narrow down your list yet?”_ _ _

___“I think so. I’m down to Williams at _SI_ and Curry at the _Times_.” _ _ _

___Finn taps his pen on the scratched out memo pad Vazquez had left on the coffee table._ _ _

___“Okay, I have Williams too. I really think she’s our best choice and she did that thing on you last year.”_ _ _

___Puck laughs. “My ‘standout glove is only overshadowed by my trademark hair’, right?”_ _ _

___“Hey, I’m not arguing with her about that.”_ _ _

___“Okay,” Puck sighs. So you want to email her tonight? Are you _sure_ Jeff’s not going to kill you if you do it on your own?” _ _ _

___Finn groans. His agent had almost passed out when Finn had told him that he and Puck were ready to go public. He’d been urging Finn since Day 1 to wait until his first arbitration year, when Finn could keep the information in his back pocket if the Royals tried to argue him down. But Finn’s 150% sure he doesn’t want to wait even another week, and, in the end, Jeff gave in, making Finn promise to come to him if the Royals so much as look at Finn sideways._ _ _

___“It can’t be worse than that screech he made when I told him we were looking to go big with this.”_ _ _

___Puck and Finn had made the decision to try for a national publication first, when they’d looked at the media coverage of Jason Collins, Michael Sam, and Tony Brightfeller, of the Rays, who’d gone on MLB Network as a minor leaguer. A sudden burst of publicity and questions was better than months or years of trickling-down rumors, they figured, and this way they’d have full control of _their_ story before anyone else could tell it for them. _ _ _

___“I wish you’d recorded that. I bet Artie could auto-tune it into a song.”_ _ _

___“Hey! You could play your recorder as accompaniment! Your national recorder debut!”_ _ _

___“Maybe I could get a recorder recording contract. You think they give out platinum recording recorder artist records?”_ _ _

___Finn groans. “Maybe we don’t mention recorders at all to Williams, or else she’ll think they’re part of our _love story_ ”_ _ _

___Puck gasps. “They’re not? Finn! I thought you fell more in love with me today than you ever have just from hearing me play!”_ _ _

___Finn smothers a laugh in his palm. “I’m going to go email her. You keep practicing. Maybe one of these days you’ll manage to snag me.”_ _ _

___ _

___The email to Norah Williams ends up being way harder to write than Finn expected. He gets as far as “Hi Norah,” before he gives up and plays Minesweeper on his phone for half an hour. When he opens his laptop back up, he stares at the cursor, squinting to try and make words appear. After multiple unsuccessful attempts, Finn finally sighs and just starts typing, trying to make himself picture Puck while he does. Once the does that, the words start flowing easier, and he’s able to tell a very short version of their story, explain what it is they’re looking for, and even add in a few compliments about her work at _SI_. After Finn hits “send,” he sits and looks at the screen for a few minutes, chewing on his lip. No turning back now, he thinks to himself, and closes his laptop with a sigh. Maybe Vazquez will be up for a _Legends_ tournament before they head to the park. A little bit of Griffey might be able to pass the time. _ _ _

___Finn doesn’t check his laptop and he turns off his email app until he’s home after the game. He locks his bedroom door and sits on his bed, tapping his fingers on the lid of his laptop until he can’t take it anymore and he navigates to his email before he can talk himself out of it. There’s an email from Williams, the unread black and white stripe across his screen looking right back at Finn as he grabs for his phone and calls Puck._ _ _

___“It’s here,” he says, before Puck even says ‘hello.’_ _ _

___“Shit. Okay. I’m right here. Promise. Go ahead and open it.”_ _ _

___Finn clicks on the email and scrunches his eyes closed, counting to ten before he opens them._ _ _

___“Finn?”_ _ _

___“Yeah, I’m here. Yeah. Oh fuck okay. Yes. Yes.”_ _ _

___“Yes? She’ll do it?”_ _ _

___“She said she just needs final approval from her managing editor but yes. _Yes,_ Puck!”_ _ _

___“Oh shit. This is it. We’re doing this.” Puck sounds more in awe than terrified, which calms Finn down enough that he can feel himself start grinning._ _ _

___“You and me. Like we always say. Except now everyone else gets to know, too.”_ _ _

___ _

___They don’t hang up until close to 3:00am, both too nervous and too excited to doing anything but talk about the interview and ask each other over and over if they can believe that _by the end of the season, we’ll finally be able to exhale._ Finn lies awake for a while afterward, reading and re-reading the email. Williams says that if they do the interview by Friday, it can go out before the postseason, which Puck and Finn think couldn’t work out better. By timing the interview during the pennant race, it won’t dominate coverage for very long, but they also won’t be accused of “pulling focus”--which was one of Rachel’s favorite phrases to scream at people during rehearsals--during the postseason. _ _ _

___Finn plays another game of Minesweeper, jumping when he hits a bomb, and thinks about what he wants to do next. He and Puck had decided not to tell anyone on their teams until the interview was booked, but Finn figures if he texts Puck tomorrow, Puck will agree it’s close enough. He thinks he wants to tell White first, so someone on the team knows before he makes a clubhouse announcement. White’s a good choice, Finn thinks, because Finn’s known him to be kind and fair and Finn’s seen him, on more than one occasion, give Hunter shit for using slurs. He’ll text White tomorrow, Finn decides firmly, after he runs it by Puck, and then he can tell the rest of the team._ _ _

___That decided, Finn lets himself drift off to sleep, his half-finished game of Minesweeper still on the phone next to his head._ _ _

___ _

___For as confident as Finn had been the night before, he’s all nervous energy in the cold clear light of day. Puck agrees with Finn that an almost-confirmation from Williams is as good as a booking, so Finn texts White and asks if they can throw Finn’s scheduled long toss before the game instead of after._ _ _

___Finn’s palms are so sweaty when he gets to the ballpark that he drops his keys twice in the parking lot and then has to reenter his security code at the door because his hands won’t stop shaking. He decides to tell White before long toss, because he’s not sure if he can make it through a whole session without keeling over. Luckily, White’s already in the clubhouse when Finn gets there, so Finn doesn’t have any time to think before he blurts,_ _ _

___“I’m not single.”_ _ _

___White grins at him wryly. “Congratulations. You meet her in Cincy?” He grabs a water bottle and a pack of gum from his locker._ _ _

___“It’s not-- I’m not with--” Finn sits down in a clubhouse chair, his leg bouncing. “It’s Puck.”_ _ _

___White pops a piece of gum in his mouth and looks at Finn for a few beats. “Seems like a great guy, even if I don’t get his hair,” White says, cracking a grin._ _ _

___Finn exhales, and he feels like he could almost cry with relief. “Yeah, well, I don’t think that hair’s going anywhere.”_ _ _

___White chuckles. “How long have you been together?”_ _ _

___“High school, actually. Senior year.” Finn shrugs, like he’s apologizing for still being with his high school boyfriend._ _ _

___“Hey, good for you. Some of these guys have managed it with their girlfriends, too. I think Goldfarb’s even known his wife since they were kids.”_ _ _

___Finn stands up and grabs his glove, mock-scowling when White hits him on the head with his empty gum package._ _ _

___ _

___Long toss feels way better than Finn could have hoped. His leg doesn’t hurt at all anymore, though he’s still careful not to overdo it, and he and White trash-talk each other’s terrible throws, shouting across the outfield._ _ _

___They walk slowly back to the dugout. Finn can see some stirring in the park, so he walks as slowly as he can, not ready to see everyone knowing he’s going to have to tell them before Friday._ _ _

___“Whatever you want to do…” Finn startles. He’d almost forgotten that White was walking next to him. White looks straight ahead as he talks. “you know where to find me.”_ _ _

___“Thanks,” Finn nods. “It’ll be soon.” He shrugs. “A lot of things are happening fast. I just got to the point where I needed to set the wheels in motion.”_ _ _

___White nods back, still looking straight ahead. “Gotta live your truth, Huddy. Some of these guys could learn a thing or two from you about that.”_ _ _

___ _

___The games have been blending together since Finn got hurt, and tonight’s was even worse for Finn, who can’t stop thinking about what’s coming next. He watches each of his teammates as they walk up to the plate or take the mound, and he wonders what they’ll think about him or if they’ll start slowly pulling away. He pictures them changing under towels or looking over their shoulders or uncomfortably pulling away from congratulatory pats on the back. And _this_ , he knows, was always going to be the hardest part. The loving-Puck part is easy. _ _ _

___He keeps his email app off, and he thinks he may even want to through the World Series, so he doesn’t get Norah’s email until several hours after she’d sent it. They’re all set for Friday, which will be perfect since the Twins are in town for the final series of the season. Finn fires back a quick email to let her know that the time and hotel she picked for the interview are fine, and then he calls Puck, suddenly needing to hear his voice._ _ _

___“How’d it go?” Puck says, instead of a greeting._ _ _

___“White was awesome. Said he didn’t ‘get’ your hair though.”_ _ _

___Puck snorts. “Genius is never appreciated in its time. But he’s cool?”_ _ _

___“Yeah definitely. Said I should live my truth.”_ _ _

___“I like this guy. Can I play him a song on my recorder?”_ _ _

___“No.”_ _ _

___“Dammit. So Friday, huh?”_ _ _

___“This is it,” Finn says quietly. “If you want to back out, we can still say no.”_ _ _

___“I’m ready as hell for this, Finn.” Puck matches Finn’s tone. “I love you. We’re going to kill this thing.”_ _ _

___“Will you still love me tomorrow after I have to beat up Hunter for running his mouth?”_ _ _

___“Hell, I’ll help you.” Puck’s quiet for a minute. “We should call each other tomorrow when we tell our teams.”_ _ _

___“Silent moral support,” Finn grins. “I like it.”_ _ _

___“Right, and hey! Maybe I can play my--”_ _ _

___“NO!”_ _ _

___ _

___Finn knocks on Sveum’s office door as soon as he gets to the ballpark the next day, before he’s even gone to his locker. He’s weirdly calm, or at least calmer than he thought he would be, so when Sveum gives him a “yep?” Finn walks into the office without shaking._ _ _

___“I’m ready to tell the team,” he says, closing the door behind him and standing behind the chair Sveum’s gesturing to. Sveum raises an eyebrow before realization spreads over his face._ _ _

___“Not a problem. Today?”_ _ _

___Finn nods. “We’re--Puck and I are--doing an interview tomorrow. _Sports Illustrated_. I thought you should know that too.” _ _ _

___Sveum runs a hand over his face. “Okay. You do whatever you feel like you need to. Just let me know if I can help.”_ _ _

___“Thanks, Coach.” Finn turns to head out of the room._ _ _

___“‘m real proud of you Hudson.”_ _ _

___Finn smiles his first real smile since he left his apartment and opens the door. Little by little, the weight’s lifting._ _ _

___ _

___Puck calls Finn before he has a chance to pull on his uniform, which is fine since Finn had been looking for an excuse to dawdle. He heads down one of the empty halls by the front office and sits on the floor again the wall, just listening._ _ _

____“...I know there’s been some whispers, so I wanted to be sure you heard the truth right from me. You’ve treated me like a brother since the first day I walked out on that field, and you deserve to know this before everyone else.”_ _ _ _

___Finn realizes he’s holding his breath, and he tries to exhale slowly, his heart pounding._ _ _

____”I’m queer. I mean, I date men.”_ Finn can hear Puck take a shaky breath, and when he starts talking again, he sounds much more confident. _”I’m happy with that part of myself, and I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable or think I feel uncomfortable around _you_. It’s just who I am. But the reason I want you to know is that I’m with Finn. Hudson._ ” Finn puts a hand over his mouth at that. He’s pretty sure they know who Puck means. _”and there’s going to be a lot of news about us soon, but I want you to know I’m here 100%, no matter what.”__ _ _

___The silence that follows Puck’s speech goes on way longer than Finn thought it would, and he keeps his hand over his mouth to keep from shouting into the phone._ _ _

____”Aw, man, thanks for telling us”_ _ _ _

____“Yeah, you need anything, you tell us.”_ _ _ _

____“We’ll kick some ass for you if you need it.”_ _ _ _

____“Yo, Puck can kick ass pretty good on his own.”_ _ _ _

____“Shut the fuck up, man. We’ll still _offer_.”_ _ _ _

____“Brave as fuck, Puck. We got you, bro.”_ _ _ _

___Finn beams, feeling himself tear up, and hangs up, quickly sending Puck an “I love u your my fucking hero” text before heading back down to the clubhouse._ _ _

___As far as Finn can tell, everyone’s there. Sveum nods to him when he walks in, from a spot near the doorway that Finn can’t ever remember him standing in before._ _ _

___“Hey man,” Finn kneels down next to White. “Can you get everyone’s attention. I’m…” Finn makes a gestures that White must somehow figure out, because he puts his fingers in his mouth and whistles. Within seconds, the team’s gathered around White’s locker, in varying stages of game-readiness, and White claps Finn on the back._ _ _

___“You’re up.”_ _ _

___Finn looks down and hits Puck’s entry on his call list before holding his phone down at his side._ _ _

___“Uh, hi,” Finn starts, looking nervously around the room. He feels white squeeze his shoulder just once before he moves away, and Finn takes a deep breath._ _ _

___“I’m gay.”_ _ _

___Finn takes a minute to calm his breathing, because he suddenly feels relieved and queasy all at once._ _ _

___“I know some of you have been saying things, and I don’t blame you for being curious, but you should really get to hear it right from me, instead.” He swallows hard, slowly feeling the relief overtake the queasiness. “I don’t know all of what was being said, but at least some of it is true. Or I can tell you that the part about Puck and me is.”_ _ _

___Some of the guys look a little uncomfortable at that, and Finn sees Vazquez elbow Hunter _hard_ in the ribs. _ _ _

___“I can’t thank you enough already for how you’ve welcomed me with open arms this year,” Finn says, borrowing a little bit from Puck’s playbook and a little bit from Steve Perry. “I owe you more than this, probably, but the least I can do right now is let you hear all of this from me.” He grips his phone a little tighter. “A whole lot more people are going to find out about this pretty soon,” he admits, “but I want you to know that you can come to me if you have any questions or if any of the coverage is bothering you. When I’m in this ballpark, baseball comes first.”_ _ _

___Finn looks around the room, holding himself up a lot taller than he did when he walked in, and waits._ _ _

___“Shit, the rest of the league’s going to wish they were gay now if it means they can throw your slider.”_ _ _

___Finn starts laughing and it’s like a dam breaks as the rest of the team joins him, some of them slapping Vazquez on the back, who looks like he regrets nothing._ _ _

___“Seriously, man. Bring your boy around this weekend. We’ll buy him some drinks.”_ _ _

___“Yeah, all right,” Finn takes the hand Vazquez is holding out to him and lets himself be pulled into a one-arm hug._ _ _

___The rest of pre-game passes in a blur, as guys come up to him alone or in groups of two or three to crack jokes or express their support, and by the time first pitch rolls around, Finn can’t stop grinning._ _ _

____holy fuck we’re fucking rock stars._ _ _ _

____if we are i’m growing my hair out. i’m going axl rose out on the mound._ _ _ _

____we can be each other’s groupies.  
man i can’t believe we did that. that was such a rush. _ _ _ _

____i know. i love you and now it doesn’t matter if they see me telling you that._ _ _ _

____love you too. kick ass out there._ _ _ _

___ _

___The Twins land in KC around 2:00am, but there’s no way Finn can sleep, so he meets Puck at the airport. He can see some of the Twins grinning at Finn when Puck heads out to the car, and some of them are purposely looking away, but for the first time in their professional careers, he doesn’t care. They don’t kiss right there in the airport or anything, but Finn lets himself look as excited as he feels to see Puck without needing to wait until they’re alone to show anything on his face._ _ _

___Norah’s going to interview them at the Sheraton at noon, so Finn booked a room a couple floors up. Puck had suggested that the less they have to run around before the interview, the less nervous they might be, and only having to take an elevator from their room to the interview should cut out a lot of anxiety._ _ _

___They throw their luggage on the bed--Finn always forgets that suitcase racks exist--and take a quick shower. It’s playful and silly and not at all sexy, but they laugh all the way through it. Finn gives himself a shampoo mohawk and Puck gets water up his nose trying to use the handheld shower head as a microphone, and by the time they get out and dry off, Finn can’t envision a way anything the next day could possibly go wrong. Not when they’re together._ _ _

___They get in bed still mostly damp, and they lie there for a while, staring up at the ceiling and occasionally cracking up at nothing. After about the fifteenth time of one or both of them bursting out laughing, Puck rolls over and curls up against Finn’s chest, lightly stroking Finn’s bicep._ _ _

___“I’m scared.”_ _ _

___“Me too.”_ _ _

___“I’m ready but I’m scared.”_ _ _

___“Me too.”_ _ _

___“We’re going to kick ass and it’s going to be awesome as hell but I’m scared.”_ _ _

___“Me too.”_ _ _

___Puck lifts his head and kisses under Finn’s jaw. “What would you want to do if you weren’t playing ball?”_ _ _

___“Oh hmm.” Finn rubs Puck’s shoulder absently. “Maybe I’d teach music. Not like Schue. Like a real music teacher for little kids.”_ _ _

___“Yeah, like second-graders or something?”_ _ _

___“Maybe. Around that age anyway.” Finn shrugs._ _ _

___“You’d be good at that.” Puck kisses Finn’s chest and lays his head back down._ _ _

___“What about you?”_ _ _

___“I think I’d want to help kids. Like kids like me who maybe had a shitty parent or two shitty parents. Maybe a social worker.” Puck drums his fingers on Finn’s arm. “I think I could do that.”_ _ _

___“You and me could start a service for kids. I could do music therapy and you could be their advocate.”_ _ _

___“I like that.” Puck slides his hand down to Finn’s hand and brings it up to Finn’s chest, lacing their fingers together. “If this baseball thing doesn’t work out, sounds like we’ve got backup careers.”_ _ _

___“It’ll work out,” Finn says firmly. “It’s already working out. We’ve _got_ this, Puck.” _ _ _

___“Yeah,” Pucks says, resting their hands on Finn’s chest. “Yeah we do.”_ _ _

___ _

___When Finn wakes up the next morning--later that morning, he corrects himself--he has a moment of complete and utter calm before he remembers what they’re doing at noon. They must not have moved at all during the night, because Puck’s still draped across Finn, puffing sleep breath against his chest. Finn’s not anxious--not _really_ \--but there’s still a buzzing in his stomach that won’t let him forget that they’re doing something gigantic and life-changing in just a few hours. _ _ _

___He watches Puck sleep for a little while--watches his eyelids flutter when he breathes in deeply and the way his fingers have been curled around Finn’s side all night. There’s Puck and there’s baseball, Finn thinks, and while he knows which one he would choose in a heartbeat, they’re also completely connected in that way where it feels impossible to have one without the other. Maybe that’s not okay. Maybe someone would tell Finn, and Puck too, that it’s unhealthy for their relationship and their career to be wrapped around each other so tight, but most of Finn doesn’t care. Puck fits Finn the way Finn’s fingers fit around the seams of the ball. It’s all just right and perfect and makes Finn who he is._ _ _

___Puck’s eyes flutter open and he squints up at Finn. “Did we sleep through it?”_ _ _

___Finn chuckles. “Nah, looks like we’re going to have to do this in real life.”_ _ _

___“Mmm,” Puck stretches. “This real-life thing is pretty fucking good, though.”_ _ _

___“You don’t see me complaining.”_ _ _

___“Mm-mm,” Puck shakes his head and moves across Finn until he’s lying directly on top of him. Puck teases Finn’s nipple with his fingertip and looks up at Finn, raising an eyebrow. “Want to see something else I can do in real life?”_ _ _

___“‘m never going to say no to that.” Finn spreads his legs and props himself up a little toward the headboard as Puck slides down Finn’s body, placing open mouth kisses all over his chest and stomach. Finn’s still got morning wood, so Puck kisses around the base of Finn’s cock a few times before just going for it. He licks a stripe up the shaft, looking up at Finn with his eyes dancing as he swirls his tongue around the head before sliding his mouth just over it, curling his tongue around and making Finn grip the sheets in his fists. Puck moves his mouth lower and lower with each bob of his head, until Finn’s down his throat. Puck hums a little, and Finn knows Puck would be smiling if he could, the corners are his mouth just barely turned up. He slides his mouth back up until just the tip of Finn’s cock is between his lips, and then he _sucks_. Finn tips his head back and makes an embarrassing noise, and Puck just chuckles before repeating the motion, alternating deep-throating Finn and teasing the head, until Finn can’t take it anymore. He grips the back of Puck’s head and tugs lightly at Puck’s hair, waiting until he gets the nod from Puck before he comes down Puck’s throat, his other hand still gripping the bedsheets. _ _ _

___“Fuck,” Finn says, when he’s recovered enough to speak. “I love real life.”_ _ _

___“Me too.” Puck licks his lips. “Let’s go do some more of it in the shower.”_ _ _

___ _

___By 11:45, they’ve run out of fun real-life things to do, and they’re just sitting on the bed in what Puck has decided are nice enough clothes that Norah can mention them in the article without embarrassing their moms. Finn keeps compulsively turning his phone’s home screen off and on to check the time, and Puck’s jiggling his leg so hard the whole bed’s shaking. Finn puts his hand over Puck’s knee and just keeps it there, not trying to stop him, until Puck takes Finn’s hand and grips it tight._ _ _

___“We should probably start walking…”_ _ _

___“Yeah…”_ _ _

___Neither of them make a move to get up, though, and it’s 11:55 before they finally decide they can’t get away with waiting any longer. Norah’s room is only two floors down, so they take the stairs, every single step feeling more and more important until by the time they’re standing in front of her door, they have to stop and just look at each other._ _ _

___“Last chance?”_ _ _

___Puck shakes his head. “You and me.” He runs his fingers along Finn’s collar, smoothing out the back of it, and looks right into Finn’s eyes. “C’mon, King Huddy. What are we waiting for?”_ _ _


End file.
